


wordless

by tragakes (lejf)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Book: Exodus, M/M, Megatron is such a sap it's laughable, Minor Character Death, Soundwave goes full protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lejf/pseuds/tragakes
Summary: In the gladiatorial pits, in the depths of the world, Soundwave is not a follower. He is cataclysmic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey. I suggest you have creator styles on for this work, because with this one I wanted to play with some formatting bits and bobs in the form of text colours.

"You are not meant for this place," Megatronus told him. He said it with all his spark and with such absolute conviction that Soundwave could almost believe he was genuine and that it was not some sort of ploy laced with ulterior motives.

But the sentiment of the statement, for the most part, on the surface, was true. Soundwave nodded curtly — then looked for a way around the enormous gladiator blocking his way down the corridor.

"So help me. Your talents are wasted in this place. You are placed in danger every fight you step out into, every fighter you face. How could you wish to continue like this?"

Soundwave sent a burst of resentment towards Megatronus. It was clearly his first time receiving data input so directly. He physically drew back, alarmed, optics widening. Soundwave took some satisfaction in knowing that his message had been received loud and clear and made to duck under the enormous metal arm.

Which lowered to barred his path. Unlike Megatronus, Soundwave did not enjoy resorting to violence, and the option of attacking was too extreme, considering Megatronus _did_ best him, if only slightly, the last time they'd met in the ring; although admittedly Soundwave had held back. So instead of forcing his way through, he drew away, visor flickering. "Megatronus! — chance of success - dubious." The voices were stolen patches of other mechs', the distant roar of crowds heard like static through them.

He expected Megatronus to say that the chance of success would be higher with Soundwave, or give other empty assurances, but Megatronus did not. He met Soundwave's faceless mask where lesser mechs looked away. "A chance is all I need."

Soundwave twitched irritably. The offer was tempting, but ultimately too dangerous for him and his cassettes. What could Megatronus do to lead them out of the pits? His words were pretty, no doubt — and Soundwave _had_ heard them before, had seen his matches, had fought him — but one mech's strength did little to guarantee anything.

"It is not binding," Megatronus assured him, and this, of all statements, gave Soundwave pause.

Soundwave didn't like living in the ring. He loathed the danger it afforded him and his cassettes, and they were what mattered to him. He and his small family... if he could somehow grant them peace, it would be worth it.

His EM field dropped to a soothing lull. In response, almost instinctively, Megatronus moved closer. He did not take his optics off Soundwave, and if Soundwave didn't know better, he would almost say that Megatronus was enraptured. Soundwave reached out two hands, offering, though when Megatronus put his hands in them, Soundwave could've laughed.

"Head!" The clip came from the arena. It had been in one of Megatronus' own matches, the spectators roaring, _Off with his head! Off with his head!_

Soundwave did not need Megatronus' head in his hands to read his mind, but it was the submission that he sought. He needed to prove to Megatronus that Soundwave was not beneath him — if he wanted his assistance, Soundwave would be an equal. In their last match Soundwave had lost, barely, though not for the want of it. He had purposefully lost. He did not want to be labelled the strongest warrior in the arena; he did not want to paint himself a target. He wondered if Megatronus knew, and then decided that it didn't matter. If he did, then Soundwave was already his equal. If he didn't, then Soundwave would prove to be his equal.

With the sound of metal creaking, tons of it surging, settling, the rush of air as something huge moved, Megatronus knelt. His head bowed gently into Soundwave's hands and Soundwave was struck suddenly by the image of a crown in his grasp, crowning Megatronus as a king, but realised it was inaccurate. A king did not kneel when crowned. He stood, his progenitor raised by the dais. _Knights_ knelt.

Soundwave would see if Megatronus was worthy of becoming his knight.

He plunged into Megatronus' mind with all the seamlessness of a blade, and Megatronus welcomed him in, shining with light, the radiance of conviction forging the steel will that was his to wield. He was a lone gladiator in a maze of endless stone walls that sprawled and spiralled outwards to the horizon's utmost edge; Soundwave grabbed him and dragged him backwards, down those winding paths, memories smearing in moments of sound and emotion, until he reached _him_ , their fight: Soundwave as a creature of glinting knives and sharp edges that did not move so much as flow from one shape to the next, folding and unfolding in lines of unfollowable motion as tendrils picked Megatronus apart by the plate and said nothing, laughed at nothing, showed nothing until Megatronus had him leaking with energon all over their pedes — where he had reached out his EM field, so vivid that it was alien, and sent Megatronus a gentle thrum of satisfaction.

Megatronus' revelation of Soundwave's strength was as stunning as the sun rising, brilliance washing over everything, the world washed into grey-scale. And if Megatronus was that star, burning, then Soundwave was the shadows that stretched from his cast. He saw everything Megatronus did not see, heard everything Megatronus did not hear, and moved with a grace so grave that he could have been made of ash.

Soundwave let go of Megatron in his mind and his memories and moved freely, through its landscape, melting through walls and space. He became aware that beneath it all thrummed a quiet, mournful note: The first designation Megatronus had given _himself_ was D-16. His untroubled days. The ringing of tools in the mine.

And then before him rose the full scale of his vision, a planet united, every mech — no matter who, no matter where — striding down its glowing streets with a place to be, a voice rising to be heard. Soundwave nearly reeled with the devotion to this dream. Megatronus' unwavering determination to lay every brick of it, his intelligence devoted to discover the path to end to his maze no matter what toll he had to pay.

When Soundwave withdrew, Megatronus was trembling under his hold. His plating rattled, flared wide, engines whirring. Soundwave touched a gentle finger to lift his chin, and the optics that met his were stunned wide. Soundwave used telepathy to fight, yes, but never like this.

Megatronus' conviction was true.

"I accept - you." Soundwave would admit, and Megatronus would accept, that the words were not his own voice, but someone else's, spliced together, fitted, under the knife —

— the same blade that he, mentally, so willingly, lay on Megatronus' shoulders and crowned him his knight.

Megatronus loved poetry, Soundwave recalled. He would've appreciated the sentiment.

*

His opponent was fast, reaching 230m/k in unprecedented acceleration, a bulldozer in his own right, and had risen quickly in the ranks of the arena undefeated. Dust was kicked in clouds as he charged Soundwave again, and while his enemy was fast, Soundwave was _faster_ , though not in physical strength. He processed the mech's intent to charge ten nanokliks before he did, and that was more than enough for him to step swiftly out of the way of a sweep of claws that would've opened him from head to pede.

"Fight me!" the mech withdrew his battle-mask to snarl, "weakling!"

In the next charge, Soundwave did not dodge. He sensed the mech's surprise as Soundwave stood and allowed that claw to rip through him in a pierce, blowing out his energon tank and to skewer Soundwave on his limb. The mech lifted Soundwave up, crowing with his optics alone, ready to rend Soundwave from shoulder to shoulder while the crowd screamed like they were one, heaving, mass.

Lowering his battle-mask had been his mistake. The mech did not have fine-motor twitch, could not escape the suddenly plunge of Soundwave's data-cable into his intake, shoving his way down into it, spreading cables and wires down his energon lines. The mech struggled to throw him off, but Soundwave latched on with his own claws, impaled there on the arm, and shoved the cable down into his tasks and gestation tanks and engines and then ruptured every internal organ with an explosion of electricity.

The crowd screamed as the mech fell. Steam was rising from his lines, his body swelling under his armor, heated and expanding energon with nowhere to go but out. It ballooned from his mouth, spraying out across Soundwave's chest-plates.

Unperturbed, Soundwave found that he could not remove himself from the arm, either, so he wrenched it out of its socket and left the arena like that, a limb jutting through him. The coolness and dimness and quiet of the arena's corridors were soothing, and almost immediately he heard the hurrying of Shockwave's pedes reach him.

"Good boy, good boy," Shockwave said. Soundwave sent an irritated spike through his EM field, Shockwave recoiling for only a moment before his enthusiasm took over. Soundwave did not follow Shockwave's sardonic wishes. Any alignment of their motivations was coincidental, and, in fact, unwelcome. Shockwave was an individual as a scientist; deemed too dangerous to continue experimenting in the upper echelons, he had moved to their place in the proverbial sewers so he could use bodies that no one wanted.

Soundwave did not merely distrust him. He thought that, in many ways, Shockwave epitomised what they fought against. He used mechs that were of lower caste of him — he was a figure of corruption that had been rightly ousted but not rightly followed up upon, and instead set loose upon the scourge of the world: them.

But for the time being, Shockwave was invaluable as the surgeon of the arena. He had taken Soundwave to his workshop and — after some arduous time — removed the arm from him, and as he cooed over the limb Soundwave had inadvertently donated, Megatronus appeared in the doorway, Laserbeak perched on his shoulder.

Soundwave, on the med berth, sent a chime of inquiry out towards him, and Megatronus stepped in.

"Delicate equipment in here," Shockwave warned, striding past to steady an energon drip-line hanging across the room that Megatronus' shoulder-spikes had brushed. "Why can't you ever stay out?"

"You didn't clean him," Megatronus shot back, producing a rag from his subspace to wipe down the dried energon splattered across Soundwave's chest. Laserbeak bristled with the shared sentiment.

Soundwave pried the rag out from his hold and wiped himself. He was not an invalid. "Yet you wouldn't have known he wasn't clean if you didn't come in, so don't give me that excuse."

"Are you attempting to prevent me from seeing Soundwave?" Megatronus asked, a dangerous hint beneath his words, and just like that Shockwave flipped over into something more sickly sweet and subservient. Soundwave could still sense the irritated thoughts gathering in his mind, like a cloud of insects in the corner of the room.

"No, of course not. I would never dream of stemming your autonomy. Just respect my equipment a little more, won't you?" Soundwave had the distinct impression that Shockwave was also somehow laughing at them.

Megatronus' vents exhaled hot air, at that, but he didn't verbally respond, instead leaning over Soundwave, peering at the wound that split his middle. Shockwave had placed rudimentary patches over it all, but by Megatronus' frown, it appeared there was still some oozing wound.

"Could you _not_?" Shockwave griped. Megatronus had taken out patches from his own subspace, and swiped a welder from one of Shockwave's trolleys.

"You're an awful surgeon," Megatronus replied.

"No, I'm not. Don't forget how many times I've cobbled you together. Have you been reading those medical datapads again? For Pit's sake."

"What of it?" Megatronus lay the patch over Soundwave and lit the welder. His face was cast aglow with its flame. Soundwave was aware he was staring, observing wistfully that Megatronus must've had some practise, with how steady his servos were, though there was clearly some hesitation. Laserbeak fluttered down to rest by his neck, whirring lowly. "It doesn't seem remiss to learn any new skills."

Soundwave reached out a calming EM field tendril and Megatronus, as ever, relaxed into it until the weld was placed away.

"Whatever you insist. How about you get better at it and get him out of here? And don't expect me to do any surgery for you in the next orn — I'm going for a holiday."

Megatronus was the one who looked up at that, though in reality he had known, courtesy of Soundwave and the all-hearing audials of his minicons. "Where to?"

"Wherever I feel like it," Shockwave replied airily. "I have a few connections I haven't burnt out yet, and I want to take the best of my time before we're so work-boggled that I can't leave. Do you have an objection?"

"Free will is the right of every bot."

"I thought so."

Megatronus ignored him and instead helped Soundwave stand, and admittedly standing was much more difficult than laying down had been, driven by the energon-pounding intensity of the battle. If Soundwave was spiteful, he would've deliberately stumbled and mangled more of Shockwave's equipment. But Soundwave was not, so he merely exited the room with his fellow gladiator.

Laserbeak took off down the corridor once they exited; she had seen enough to determine Soundwave's state, ready to return to her brothers and her patrols. Megatronus held him steady. A gaping hole in his body and tanks, despite hasty patching, was nothing to scoff at.

Soundwave sent him another burst of query, the same as he'd offered when Megatronus had initially come in. Hadn't he been due to meet with the archivist that'd contacted them?

"Electrical storm on Kaon-32 highway," Megatronus replied. Soundwave relaxed as acknowledgement, and then considered that the highway was the main one leading out of Kaon. How was Shockwave supposed to leave to his 'holiday'? He must've had a time limit that was very pressing. Suspicious, Shockwave tapped in.

`[314.15.92.653] Is the shuttle ready?`  
`[23.28.171.180] I was wondering what was taking you. Yes, of course. `  
`[23.28.171.180] Expected time of arrival?`  
`[314.15.92.653] 1840.22`  
`[23.28.171.180] Traffic isn't going to be nice at that time. It's already worsening now.`  
`[23.28.171.180] Storm's setting in, you know.`  
`[314.15.92.653] What do you want me to do about it?`  
`[23.28.171.180] Come now. Easy. You know that we also can't launch if it's storming, right?`  
`[314.15.92.653] Then why didn't you predict the storm earlier? Why didn't you warn me?`  
`[23.28.171.180] You're the scientist. You don't need me to talk Chaos Theory to you.`

Soundwave ceased actively listening. He'd heard enough to confirm a suspicion, though he'd certainly tune into Shockwave's private frequency again later.

"Shockwave - likely flying."

"That's interesting," Megatronus replied. He'd been leading Soundwave through the corridors while he'd been unaware, pushing open one of the Staff-Only doors to reveal a staircase. Soundwave nearly baulked, but Megatronus stilled him with a firm hand. "Most have already retired for the night."

Soundwave hadn't checked his chronometer. Time was not often of much importance to him, but he was surprised to see that Megatronus was correct. "Megatronus - where?"

"Up," he said simply, and lifted Soundwave off his pedes to scale up the stairs, three at a time, up and up and up, the worn stone walls greeting them as the paint-peeling railings passed by. Their metallic sounds echoed up and down the well and gave him the sensation of falling. Soundwave found that looking at the stairs disappearing beneath them was dizzying, so he turned his head towards Megatronus instead, to observe his broad shoulders and steady poise, unfaltering even as they hit twenty flights and continued.

"Query: No - extenuating - plans tonight?" Again, his voice was in stolen snippets of others. He wondered how Megatronus did not tire of it.

"No," Megatronus said, and seemed to delight in the answer, because, to Soundwave's alarm, he leapt five steps, sending a judder through Soundwave that he punished Megatronus for by digging in his claws. "I apologise, I apologise," he soothed as Soundwave seethed. He was lenient enough already by not protesting being _carried._

"Tell me, Soundwave, how often do you leave the arena?"

"Rarely."

"Just into the streets, do you not? For your symbionts' comforts."

Soundwave did not understand where Megatronus was taking him, particularly in conjunction to his words. Up into the spectator stands? What was special about that? Surely the staircase would not have led them out of the arena either. "Query," he began, just as Megatronus pushed open another door and they were buffeted by cold winds and rain and above them rose a sky that, through its low-hanging clouds, seemed an impossibly pure dark gradient of blue. It was such a pure blue, in fact, that it seemed like the clouds seems to melt into it altogether.

He found himself lowered to his pedes and being guided out the flat plane; it was the rooftop of the adjourning administration building. He could see ventilation system blocks nearby, whirring, and evidence of weather stains, but his attention was not on the building-top. _Kaon_ was there.

The city was there in a million lights, small dabs of them, longer smears, and the muted tones of buildings nestled at the base of enormous crumbling towers and spoke of thousands of lives. It called to him in solemnity, shadowed him in the knowledge that he was only one of the many, born in the vestiges of titanic things that had long gone, and then granted him view of it. All of it. Sprawling, ruinous. It made him feel small yet towering all at once, and suddenly he could understand why Megatronus was a poet, because he was seized with the desire to capture the moment in the way any recording could not. The lightness in his spark, the awe, the wind and the rain that shook his frame to tell him that he was alive; that, through everything, he had fought through the pits and was still breathing, still here, clinging to the gills to see this city that he had only ever walked on through the ground. His awe and joy and gratitude for life was reflected back to him, echoing, through his symbionts' bonds.

` [36.151.41.174] Our prison. `

Megatronus had comm'ed him because he wanted Soundwave's coherence, he realised. Because he did not want to hear stolen words.

`[13.616.33.616] Beauty.`  
`[36.151.41.174] From here you can see the horizon, the limit of our world, whereupon we can travel no further.`

And see it, he could, the seamless span of the setting Cybertronian sun. But he did not agree with Megatronus' sentiment, and he sensed that Megatronus himself did not, entirely, either, and had brought Soundwave for the purposes of changing his mind.

`[13.616.33.616] Limit to my world: the arena. `  
`[13.616.33.616] This, greater.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus: have you no love for Kaon?`  
`[13.616.33.616] You confided: It taught you philosophy. It taught you life.`  
`[36.151.41.174] The city holds a place dear in my spark, but imagine travelling further. Imagine, like Shockwave, venturing out, standing above Iacon, the sunlight glistening on its spires, shining with thousands of panes of glass. We out live here in this city of darkness, able to see it only in the night, and although it is a home, it is a forced one. We are relegated to it. We are its scum.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus:`  
`[13.616.33.616] decline, in this universe, to label yourself 'scum' again.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Ordering me, Soundwave?`  
`[13.616.33.616] Yes. `  
`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus: sparked with unique opportunity.`  
`[13.616.33.616] The ability to define himself. To bestow own designation.`  
`[13.616.33.616] D-16, Megatronus, perhaps even still to change.`  
`[36.151.41.174] That designation— where did you find it?`  
`[13.616.33.616] Your mind.`  
`[13.616.33.616] D-16: your words have power.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Kaon: as you wish to see it.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Prison or beauty.`  
`[36.151.41.174] It... is a _prison._`  
` [36.151.41.174] Among its lives that deserve better weave even more dark streets of faces and minds. It is what I fight for, and simultaneously fight to escape. Yet still— it is beautiful to me. A terrible beauty.`  
`[13.616.33.616] This admittance: sufficient.`  
`[36.151.41.174] You have strange insistences, Soundwave.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: unwilling to witness you force yourself into revolutionary.`  
`[13.616.33.616] It is not the entirety of you.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Every spark: faceted.`  
`[13.616.33.616] The day that Megatronus observes: skies, cities, mecha, energon, earth, colour, wind, rain, lightning, the mundane, and sees merely constructs of caste injustice:`  
`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus will have lost something.`

He was quiet for a moment. The rumble of their engines were lost under the rain.

Soundwave saw himself often, through the eyes of his cassettes, but for the strangest reason, when he saw himself in the reflections of the water that have pooled at his pedes, he did not look the same.

`[36.151.41.174] Come here, Soundwave.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I am here.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: has always been here.`

Metal moved, promising power, to stand close. Megatronus' chest behind him was very warm. Soundwave did not think he had ever sensed Megatronus so keenly. That moment, distant from everything that his life revolved around, Soundwave felt more alive than ever.

"It is my duty, Soundwave, to see what others do not see, to see that our injustices _are_ so prevalent that they are even in our mundane." He said it quietly, even to Soundwave's delicate audials.

Megatronus tensed as Soundwave wove a data-cable around his arm, pulsing warm and comfort as desperately as he could. Even Megatronus, Soundwave could feel, was cold from the rain, and Soundwave wished that he had better words, words that could warm him from inside out. But Soundwave was not like Megatronus; his words did not inspire. They destroyed.

`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus: Arrived in Kaon 184v.`  
`[13.616.33.616] D-16: Arrived in Kaon 160v.`

Tension rippled up behind him. Soundwave glanced back. Megatronus' tight expression told him that he already knew what Soundwave was going to reveal. Soundwave's data-cable tightened. Do not let go.

` [13.616.33.616] D-16: Lost first gladiator match. Unfamiliar with opponent's infamous illusions. Left Kaon. Returned 14 vorns after. Frame alteration. Unrecognised. `

No one found secrets like Soundwave did.

`[13.616.33.616] D-16: Should not vanish under the need to become a revolutionary.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Truth should be shown. Truth is the basis of freedom.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Or else our revolution is a farce.`

They fought for every mech's individual truth and freedom, one not bogged down by status and caste, one not assigned at the moment a mech was raised and sparked. For Megatron himself not to be free to admit...

"Will you tell them?"

Soundwave knew that he should've answered yes. Speaking was no easy feat for him, yet he had forced it all together to tell Megatronus this. He couldn't spurn it. But the revolution was already under way; Megatronus _was_ the emblem of hope. He was the undefeated gladiator. Either Soundwave slit the throat of Megatronus' radiant dream by releasing the eon-old surveillance tapes, the evidence of Megatronus' loss, and hoping to weather out the ensuing storm of Megatronus' despaired humiliation, his spark-deep break, or—

"No," Soundwave said.

It would be a farce, then.

"We deceive," Megatronus murmured, and clutched Soundwave tighter, as though stunned by his own admission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone has a mac, in network utility, two tabs are “finger” and “port scan”. 
> 
> 'Enter a user name and domain address to use finger to get information about that user.' The button for the process is labelled as "finger". So you finger users.
> 
> And in port scan you “scan for open ports”.
> 
> Thank you transformers, for tainting my life.


	2. Chapter 2

While it was easy to monitor Shockwave's frequency to learn that he had gone to Trypticon, it was far more difficult to gauge his actual thoughts and plans. Soundwave did not want to forcibly, obviously, rifle through Shockwave's memories, so he did not, but kept careful minibot optic on him. In the wake of his 'holiday', Shockwave had brought back the knowledge of combiners, much to Megatronus' (and Soundwave's) disapproval.

Shockwave was apparently simply meandering around his lab at the moment, injecting an unknown chemical into broken mech parts to see if they repaired, and so Soundwave did not see it as a matter of great concern, turning back to the gladiatorial match unfolding before him.

The mechs were the awful new concoction of Shockwave's combiners: Insecticons. They were introduced into the arena to astounding roar, three of them, slithering into the field in a way no mech should've, and the hosts lowered a vehicle into the ring for them to scan. It was a rule against Megatronus simply because he crushed his opponents in mere nanokliks otherwise, but Soundwave could not help feeling uneasy as he watched them move. Their spines and their heads simply seemed disjointed, as though they were dead things, pretending. He was tempted to reach out in telepathy to ascertain if they had minds at all, but decided against it. The thoughts of the crowd would be overwhelming enough to give him a processor-ache.

The Insecticons were crawling across the arena that had been filled with scrap metal to provide more terrain, spindle-legs barely leaving tracks in the dust. They disappeared behind the metal heaps and did not appear again, and excited whispers started around Soundwave. The Insecticon must've been hiding, planning to ambush the great Megatronus. Soundwave thought that the choice of hiding place was rather transparent.

Megatronus was announced to enormous fanfare, stepping into the arena with twin maces by his side. The hosts, the announcers, screamed his name as fervently as the audience did, and Megatronus was no better, greeting them all as he entered, raising an open hand that most of them would never hope to grasp.

As soon as the gate fell shut behind him, though, his helm snapped forwards; he leapt into action, flying across the field faster than anyone would believe a mech of his size could move, swinging his mace forth towards the pile that the audience knew the Insecticons had hidden in. And out erupted a snarling mech, and for a shocking moment Soundwave thought they were going to collide head-to-head in a terrifying crash, but from the earth _beneath_ Megatronus burst another screaming bug that caught the first one mid-air, and they were landing on either sides of Megatronus, black blades relentless as they sought to rend him apart.

Bright sprays of acid splattered down Megatronus' frame; Soundwave could see it curling, hissing, but Megatronus tore right through it and seized the bladed arm of his enemy, flinging it around and its arm disconnected from its body with a sickening _pop_ of the socket—

It careened into the audience and screams burst out immediately, some in fear and others in delight, mechs fleeing from the Insecticon that lurched wildly to its feet. Other mechs threw themselves at it, energon spraying everywhere in the onslaught. Soundwave, through it all, did not move. Megatronus was still fighting harder than he'd seen in deca-orns, grappling with the other insect that snapped its lacerating jaws nanometers from Megatronus' helm, maces gone.

The last Insecticon that had not made an appearance until now appeared from the wall, camouflage rippling from its frame as it leapt not for Megatronus, but for the Insecticon wrestling him. Its sudden weight sent the jaws closing the last distance that Megatronus had been keeping it away from and the thick black mandibles distended Megatron's helm as they connected.

In the flare of plating and sudden grotesque movement, the two bugs began to merge, the abdomen of one melting into the shoulders of the other, folding apart to become larger, more efficient weapon systems, and Megatronus charged free of their grapple to seize one of their ion cannons, shove it into one of their own heads, and fire. Soundwave saw pieces of processor flying, energon arcing into the air from suddenly-exposed lines, but still the combination did not stop. The Insecticon threw itself at Megatronus while still wearing its dead comrade.

The crowd was wild, as rabid as the fighters themselves. The one that had been hurled into the crowd leapt back into the arena, hitting the ground as an ATV that roared straight for Megatronus, who was already holding back one Insecticon half-transformed and raised his other arm to stop the vehicle. They collided with a sharp crack, wires in Megatronus' arm bursting from the exertion, mechs closing in on him on both sides. Megatronus held them for one more moment and then went diving between them, turning as he skid, the mechs flying after him, but Megatronus transformed in an instant and spun away, slashing out his claws at they thundered by.

The combined Insecticons were injured, huge, but they took to the air with thundering engines, their belly embedded with the face of the dead mech shown to the audience as they shot upwards and unlatched enormous cannons to fire upon Megatronus. But Megatronus was catching up, slamming his claws into the walls of the arena, scaling after them like a demon possessed, and _leapt_ , catching them by a wing and plummeting all the way back into the dirt of the arena, rending great pieces of the Insecticons in the fall.

For an instant wherein Soundwave realised that they would die and perhaps never be created again, never be known, curiosity overcame him. He reached out with his telepathy, out into that bloodied field, and was blinded by what he saw.

Then he could hear nothing over the screaming, _Megatron! Megatron!_ though he knew the movement had stopped; the fighting minds had quietened — all mechs knew the show was over. The dust settled for Megatronus, standing over the corpse of his enemy, roaring with all his fangs showing.

_Megatron!_

"I STILL FUNCTION!"

His ferocity must have been a beauty to behold, flecked with pieces of the combiner, a sparking optic wedged in his shoulder, energon dripping from him. No mech in the stadium could deny that they hadn't seen the birth of–

Of what, exactly?

_Megatron! Megatron!_

D-16, Soundwave thought. Megatronus yelled to the crowd, challenging mechs to come to fight him, delighting in it. His first designation had been chosen for demolition. He had replaced it. Where was D-16? Soundwave could not see him.

_Megatron! Megatron!_

"STAND WITH ME, AND LIVE!"

Hundreds of mechs leapt to their pedes. Soundwave found that his mind was spinning. He felt suddenly that he could see very clearly, but that the realisation was just out of sight. Or perhaps Soundwave did not want to see it.

He looked down, helplessly, and the rest of the crowd was stampeding, some merely stamping their feet, others howling and following 'Megatron' because their gladiator had left the arena to celebrate.

When Soundwave had seen Megatron there, triumphant, the bodies of other mechs surrounding him — mechs that had been born in the Pits and bought up and stolen by a scientist who cared nothing of others, mechs that had been created and mutilated solely for this small window of time and grandeur and were defeated just as they had been expected to be, mechs who had nothing in their life but to be splayed out as a show — Soundwave did not think of freedom.

And when he had reached into their minds and saw nothing but endless blistering agony, Soundwave did not think of freedom.

*

A cleaner drone, mopping up energon, finally startled him out of the stasis his mind had fallen into, urging him to go. Ravage was a warm form at his pedes, tail flicking dismissively. He looked up as Soundwave moved.

Soundwave sent a shaky, but valid, data-burst of reassurance, and Ravage merely nodded and disappeared through the stand.

Around him, the light from the sky-lights had grown dark and the arena quiet, the cleaning drones solemnly at their task. Soundwave was the only bot who had not left his seat. The arena did not seem its place of violent grandeur, he realised, as looked back on his path to the exit, but rather a junk yard designed to disillusion. Soundwave cursed himself for not realising it earlier, and then argued that he, latently, had always walked the thin edge of it. He was never swept up in the blood lust, and performed his own battles as summarily and curtly as he could, but now he knew.

As long as they played to the realms of the gladiatorial pits, they would never be free. It was inherently built off slavery; its every strut was the labour and despair of an unwilling bot. While gathering their cause here was gathering the most manipulated-of bots, they did not merely gather their cause in the Pits. They _embodied_ the Pits. When Megatron spoke to the masses he spoke of uprising, violence, fighting in the only way a gladiator knew how to fight, not with words but with fists and action. It was not his fault. It was a mindset that was warped, shaped, and directed by their experience in the arena: their great noose of slavery.

Therefore it was a charade. A farce. Their very struggle epitomised the containers they'd been been caged into. With the way Megatron encouraged their rebellion, every mech following sunk their pede deeper into that base, cut-throat, barbaric image that their society had forced upon them.

The understanding was crushing. And what was even more crushing was that Soundwave did not know how to convey this to Megatron. He had barely waded through his thoughts himself.

Soundwave found himself returning to their quarters — small, barrack-type living quarters — through an uneasy and disturbed haze. This was far larger than Megatron losing his first gladiatorial fight. This was the means of the entire revolution; how could Soundwave propose stopping it in favour of something else? In favour of _words_ , to prove that their caste was just as deserving of words and art, from which they had been so forbidden, when he himself clearly had none? How could he make Megatron see that the entire revolution was a charade of freedom?

The door opened to the sight of a rocking berth, Megatron pistoning into the aft of another adoring fan. Soundwave had not been expecting Megatron to be there, and froze. Then his processor kicked into gear, away from the sight of Megatron's stiff spike pummelling and that secretive, hidden, alcove tucked beneath it, glistening with just a hint of lubricant, flexing with every thrust of Megatron's hips.

"Megatron was to - inform Soundwave - when interfacing - in shared living quarters."

The mech above Megatron squeaked at the voice(s), disengaging from Megatron's spike, and Soundwave let himself feel the slightest dismay that he could not tune his sound clips to the appropriate nuance to convey his emotions. Instead, he reached out with a data-cable and wrapped it around the mech's hips, picking them up entirely and depositing them outside.

"Apologies - for his brashness," Soundwave told the mech, who stared up at him with wide optics, and then he slammed the door.

Megatron could not seem to keep still on his berth, legs still splayed out, and Soundwave would try not to note that his spike was de-pressurising much too slowly, that there was transfluid splashed all over his plating, and that his demure opening pressed against the steel of the berth was still wet with lubricant. "Soundwave," he growled from his place, claws extending, but did not make any other threat.

"Your own — folly," Soundwave griped. "Poor choice of - celebrations. Here?"

"I hadn't exactly planned this," Megatron shot back. He closed his legs, and finally Soundwave could look away, striding towards his own berth and searching under it for his belongings.

"Soundwave - expected better."

"You already flung my berth partner out the room; spare me the condescension. Not every mech can take abstinence like you do."

Soundwave sent him a sharp look, hoping that it would be felt through the visor. "Has Megatron - celebrated outside yet?"

"Of course. And are you calling me that new designation now, too?"

In all truth, Soundwave had hardly realised. "Yes."

Gentler, Megatron said, "I have no objection. They were chanting it as I walked down the streets. They called me their new hero. _Megatron_."

Soundwave crossed over to him with a rag, cleaning supplies, and quick-place patches in hand. He turned his focus onto twisted wires in Megatron's arm, on the blackening shoulder where he had been caught by acid, and finally to the transfluid staining his front, trying to ignore that Megatron's interface panel was still open. Megatron had prioritised interface over repairs. The interface had likely been important. Perhaps Soundwave shouldn't have intervened. He would make up for it.

"I thought to myself: this is what we want it to be like, this is how we should re-make the world."

Soundwave stopped, jolted out of his thoughts, his claws splayed out over Megatron's hips where the transfluid had pooled. Now was his chance. He had to say something.

"Soundwave?"

His servos trembled. How could he say it? How could he reveal to Megatron the incrimination in what he'd just claimed? A shiver ran through the grey metal under it, and distantly, Soundwave felt it heat up.

Soundwave's head jerked towards the door, and he threw the rag down with a soft thump. "Where are you going?" he heard Megatron demand from the berth as he jabbed the light switch and they were plunged into darkness — no luxury such as windows for them, and Soundwave kept his visor off and dimmed his biolights. Only Megatron's optics remained aglow.

He was back to Megatron in an instant, spreading his claws over Megatron's wounds from the day, threatening to dig in.

`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: extremely displeased with you.`  
`[36.151.41.174] What have I done to upset you? Was it the berth partner? The mech was insistent and adept enough at blackmail for me to agree.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Difficult... to express.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: Anger in the wake of your triumph, irrational.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Yet understandable.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Megatron: conceived gladiatorial fight as victory.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: does not.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Soundwave? Since when?`  
`[13.616.33.616] The pit, our place of condemnation. Here due to caste's demands.`  
`[13.616.33.616] A victory within it is not our victory.`  
`[13.616.33.616] It is theirs.`  
`[13.616.33.616] The victory, to their rules. Their definition.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: can no longer support you in encouraging brutality.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Brutality is what they made of us.`  
`[36.151.41.174] That may not be true. Nothing makes me feel as alive as fighting. It is what brought me to the reverence of life in the first place.`  
`[36.151.41.174] What does a victory look like, to you?`  
`[13.616.33.616] Victory: the forbidden.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Demonstration of will. Dignity. Civility.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Victory: That we are beyond what has been labelled us.`  


Megatron seemed to consider that carefully, and sometime in their conversation he had rested a servo on Soundwave's waist. The fingers there drummed, paused, soothed, and began drumming again, and traced symbols. 

`[13.616.33.616] Megatron: walking down streets. Adored. Considered that to be the world he wished for.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: disagrees.`  
`[36.151.41.174] What?`  
`[13.616.33.616] Our world: when D-16 walks down streets. Adored. Ador _ing_. Mechs around him, equally achieved. Impressed him. D-16: as joyed to see them as they him. Because they are free from the streets; have risen on their own feats. Each mech with their own talent.`  
` [36.151.41.174] Soundwave, it has struck me... I have never asked where you came from.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Sometimes I am sure you are not of this plane.`  


Soundwave's fans whirred in confused response, but Megatron's EM field was not hostile.

`[13.616.33.616] Secret.`  


The faint rumble beneath his frame was laughter. Megatron, tucking Soundwave to him, laughing. "Of course." A claw followed the curve of his neck, cradling his face. "You are more loyal to this cause than I realised. Your dream— is becoming even more fathomless than mine. I cannot begrudge you it. But as for whether I also adopt it..." The claws shifted, and Soundwave heard part of Megatron moving in the darkness, leaving the ending open. The dim glow of his optics cast them into vague impressions of shadows. 

When he spoke again, his tone was more teasing. He had moved onto something different. "At the end, that almost sounded like a poem, Soundwave."

`[13.616.33.616] Wordplay: unintentional.`  


"Would you like to hear some intentional wordplay?" 

Soundwave had seen Megatron's other poetry verses before. Though he was hard-pressed to understand them, he could sense Megatron's emotion in the words, and that was what made the poetry precious, to him. He nodded.

"Down these dark streets," — Megatron shifted, and Soundwave was aware that he was turning around, sliding one thick thigh over his, "in the bowels of the world, sullen growls and sounds," — his heavy weight rested over Soundwave's legs, and his voice was very close. He had shuttered his optics so all light was snuffed and they seemed lost in space. His voice had dropped to the rumble of earth. "The taste of lantern-light like ash—" 

Megatron leant forwards, his helm placed carefully beside Soundwave's, resting against the backrest of the berth, and said, "—I met you."

He did not say anything more. Soundwave, as ever, did not. He felt at once minuscule and larger than life under Megatron's attention. He could not find the words.

Very objectively he knew that Megatron was bestowing him something far greater than he deserved. He simultaneously gave to Soundwave exactly what Soundwave had described as his dream: something forbidden to them. _Words_ , with power. And in the same moment he acknowledged that Soundwave was precious to him and so would respect his choice — though how Soundwave had sensed that through diction that did not specify it was beyond his understanding.

Soundwave wished he could respond. He wished he could return that same breathless, raw, sentiment. But he could not. His vocaliser had been lost a long time ago. 

All he could say, in someone else's voice — though perhaps Megatron would suspect it was his own, suspect and hope — was, "And I you."

Megatron warmed like a furnace against him.

*

Before he had met Megatron, Soundwave would not have dreamed of intervening. The brawl that took place in the next booth over should have been none of his concern, but he saw Megatron's optics dart up and narrow.

Soundwave glanced at the window beside him, where it revealed the dark streets of Kaon in the night-time. Mechs trudged down its streets, looking tired and worn, battered under the weight of existence. In the glass he could see the flickers of reflection of the scuffle. 

"Are we finished?" Megatron asked him. It was not a high-end eatery. They'd merely stopped in for a cube and a brief moment to rest, so Soundwave inclined his head. Megatron — he did not seem able to stop touching Soundwave, lately — rested the tip of his finger against the curve of Soundwave's hand around his now-empty cube for a moment of connection before he stood.

Through the dimness of the establishment (several of its lamps appeared broken), Megatron moved, and came to stand at the upturned table where the two mechs were quarrelling, their platings flared, taking swipes at each other. "Be at peace, mechs," Soundwave heard Megatron say. Soundwave strode to the entrance, where he would had good view of each table and of Megatron, who every mech in the place must have recognised. They did; all optics were on Megatron, including those of the brawlers.

"If we fight within ourselves, how can we ever resist the greater force that crushes us?"

One of the brawlers laughed at Megatron's question and spat at his pedes. Megatron did not react. Soundwave did. He merely _appeared_ over the mech's shoulder, like a shadow, and gave a burst of static. The mech lurched back in shock, claws, extended, and met only Soundwave's eerie blankness. "Stay back!" the mech said. His tone betrayed his fear. Soundwave could've ex-vented. Their reputations as champion gladiators preceded them.

It did not matter. Tension successfully dissipated, Soundwave turned away to leave, Megatron following him out the door. No mech would've dared attack them even while their backs were turned. 

Outside the air was cold, touched with the promise of rain, and immediately Megatron moved closer, their EM fields meshing, tangling together. They walked with no real destination in mind, simply for the purpose of enjoying each others presences somewhere other than within the gladiator corridors. Within the arena, they were always watched, hosts and gladiators alike looking for weaknesses in Megatron. Out in Kaon, under the guise of the darkness and the populace, they could go more unnoticed.

As they ventured further from the most crowded streets towards the edges of the city, buildings became more dim, more run-down, and some were not inhabited at all, merely ruins. Soundwave saw mechs watching within the rubble, the homeless, watching them. Soundwave was not perturbed. "The skeleton of our pasts," Megatron said to him. "Within it, there still is life."

The ground sloped into apparent darkness. There were no more street-lights on this path, but Soundwave could hear the sound of water running and other things shifting, a tiny mewl. He strayed from the street, into one of the towers that had fallen, watching dark snapped struts rise around him. Old glass and wires crunched beneath his pedes as he stepped through crumbling archways. The smell of rust was overwhelming. He spotted a pile of dirty and weathered fabrics in the divot where two walls met and assumed they must've been the resting place for a very small mech — and then he saw its owner.

The cybercat slunk from the shadows, clearly distrustful, and Soundwave crouched to make himself less intimidating. He called to it in chirps and whirrs and a warm, comforting EM field until it approached closer and allowed him to stroke its chipped coat and preen its fine plates of steel. He held that pose for as long as he dared, relishing in the trust and warmth of the creature under his hand, aware that Megatron was watching from the entrance to the ruins.

At Megatron's approach, the cybercat stiffened, but Soundwave coaxed it into relaxing with a recording of Ravage, purring. Megatron's slowly extended servo dwarfed the cat. His enormous servos — with enough power to tear a mech from limb to limb and that _had_ , in the past — were careful and unaccustomed to being gentle.

The cybercat tolerated a few passes of Megatron's petting until it shook him off, curling its tail high around Soundwave's leg before disappearing into the darkness once more, like a drop of solvent into the ocean.

Megatron remained staring at his own open hand. Soundwave laced his fingers through Megatron's and although there was a distinct difference in size, he did not feel small. He urged Megatron to stand. Then he led Megatron away, back. Back onto the streets where it was not so quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna post this on a weekly schedule, but i have no control anyway, so this is how it's gonna be


	3. Chapter 3

Soundwave found Orion Pax in the reception building. His appearance, the shine of his finish, the glossy colours of his, did not surprise Soundwave. Soundwave had already researched extensively into him. What he did not expect, however, was Orion talking to the receptionist, half-way through handing over credits.

Orion jumped when Soundwave appeared noiselessly beside him. Soundwave delicately touched his wrist to stop the exchange. "Orion Pax — our invited guest." He would make an effort to communicate more, to make Orion Pax feel more welcomed. He knew that Orion's presence was important to Megatron.

He turned to the receptionist bot instead. "Gladiatorial fight — over. Charge, misplaced."

The bot said, "It's Megatron's fight. Of course we charge no matter how far in he is. It's for general admission too, you know."

Soundwave paid for Orion, ignoring spluttering of, "What? You don't have to—" and then was leading the data clerk through the closest set of doors. "Orion Pax — our invited guest," Soundwave repeated.

"The credits have a much smaller opportunity cost for me than for you," Orion argued, though he felt silent as they strode through the doors and were greeted by heavy, anticipatory silence instead. Megatron stood over a fallen foe in the field, not more than scuffled although the mech he had been facing was almost twice his already enormous size. He was looking over at the crowd, which looked back on the edge of their seats, waiting for his words.

"You rejoice for this victorious battle," he said, and his voice somehow carried through the whole stadium. Orion Pax was staring, his audials quivering, and would've stopped moving if Soundwave hadn't urged him with a nudge to his EM field. "But I live for the day you do not; I live for the day where I do not find a victory in the arena—" Disturbed murmurs burst through the crowd, and Megatron lifted his voice into a roar to be heard, "-because there _will be no arena_!"

There was an explosion of noise. Soundwave had lead Orion up to one of the upper levels and pushed open another door that unlocked after scanning him. It lead to gladiatorial quarters. "I want to listen," Orion said.

Soundwave sent him an affirming ping that meant 'later'. They entered. The thick walls of the corridors muffled all noise, but Laserbeak was still out watching the show. Soundwave would know when Megatron was finished. Beside him, Orion was filled with growing ... shock. Telepathy duly informed him it was due to the grime and dirtiness of their living halls.

Soundwave guided his thoughts away. "Door dangerous - to use when - show ends. Spectators - desperate to follow."

He did not imagine the startlement that crossed Orion's face. The data clerk would not be able to grasp the nature of a rabid crowd. Soundwave empathised. "Soundwave: will take - Orion - out to observe - if desired."

"Will that be okay? When does Megatron finish?"

"Now." Soundwave stepped into their shared quarters, and Orion's optics narrowed immediately on the one berth that was obviously unused. At least, until Ravage's optics glowed from beneath it, and Orion blanched.

Ravage stalked up to observe Orion, sniffing at his pedes, and Soundwave could tell through skimming surface thoughts that Orion was uncomfortable, even more so than when he'd entered the arena.

"Orion - does not approve of - minibots."

"Not really. They just make me think of surveillance, and..." the bot admitted, though Soundwave plucked the words 'spying' and treachery' from his mind. Soundwave did not stiffen. Their values, of course, did not align.

Though that led to more significant thoughts. Soundwave had encouraged Megatron not to resort purely to violence because it was not a value that the upper castes valued, and Soundwave had wanted to prove their abilities on _their_ grounds, though did the same not apply to him? The upper castes loathed spying. But he would no less stop his minibots from observing and recording than he would remove his own limbs. The minibots lived to record. They lived to explore, to learn, and he could not fathom restricting them. In the same way, Megatron would be miserable without violence and fighting. Where was the answer?

"Though — Orion's — impressions: valid, negativity: unwarranted."

"Carrier," Ravage said, and Orion spun around to look at him, realising that Soundwave was the one who owned the minibots, and that he had insulted Soundwave in his domain. "Easy," Ravage taunted Orion, extending his claws under the pretence of stretching. "You wouldn't want Soundwave to realise you're biased against bots that are smaller just because of their size, yes? What next, every bot in Kaon's a criminal because they're from Kaon?"

 _Ravage, desist,_ he sent.

"I take one look at this mech and I know that he's a fraud!" Ravage hissed. That was enough. While Soundwave did not expect Orion to perfectly uphold their values — no one had, so far — he would not insult a bot who was Megatron's guest.

Soundwave's EM field smothered Ravage with the command to _leave_ , and Ravage reluctantly did, with a glare and his tail swishing high as the door opened and shut for him. Orion seemed shaken by the encounter. "I'm so sorry," he said.

"Change — possible," Soundwave said. He wouldn't pretend that he hadn't taken insult to Orion's impressions either, but he could direct his resentment towards the caste system and society at large, rather than Orion. Orion's thoughts revealed that he was genuinely contrite. Once he had been called out on it, he had apologised. If he had maintained his stance, then the circumstances would've been different. Then Soundwave would be hostile. "No bot - without biases."

Somehow, Orion seemed even more surprised. "I was wrong about you," he said, and was looking at Soundwave as though he had been presented something wonderfully new.

The door behind them slid open, but Soundwave had just found the difference. He had realised why he disapproved of Megatron's original revolution's call to violence but not his own spying, and felt this need to formulate it. "Unjust to loathe a bot's nature — whether violence — or surveillance. Fault within system — but duty, still — within bot — not to further this loathing." That was it. While Megatron might've lived to fight, felt alive while fighting, he did not need to further the upper castes' resentment towards violence by using it _against_ them. How could you fight for your nature to be accepted when you instilled fear into the very ones you wanted acceptance from?

"Soundwave," Megatron said from the doorway.

"Compromise," Soundwave finished.

"I've never heard him speak so much to a stranger." Megatron was beside him, tugging him closer, away from Orion in a subtle possessive gesture that amused Soundwave endlessly. "Although you are not a stranger. Welcome, friend, to Kaon. It is good to see you." They clasped hands, and Soundwave busied himself in the corner of the room by settling there and expanding his consciousness, plugging into the berth's port to connect him into the system, dipping into the feeds of his symbionts, skimming the thoughts of the many mechs in the building.

"And you," Orion Pax replied to Megatron, who almost inadvertently glanced at Soundwave. Soundwave did not respond, occupied with the index of information. "These are your quarters?"

"They're Soundwave's, his and his symbionts', though we regard it ours."

Orion looked nervously at the only used berth.

"If you plan to stay for more than a cycle, you are more than welcome to stay here."

"You share a berth?"

"No. Soundwave does not rest often."

Soundwave only grew aware that they were leaving when Megatron approached him before he left. Orion, though he had been told to stand and wait in the corridor, was glancing around the door frame. "Did you hear my speech?"

He sent Megatron a wordless burst of acknowledgement and gratitude. Megatron's EM field responded in kind, melding with his, and Soundwave let his EM field reach out further, languish, as though in proof that there was something more pure in his speechless interaction with Megatron than the words he had shared with Orion — to soothe Megatron's previous momentary jealousy.

Megatron seemed to find it humorous, but then he drew away. Soundwave remained in the room. He did not have an objection.

*

When Orion Pax awoke the next morning, he appeared alarmed to see Soundwave there in the corner where he had been all day and all night. "Where's Megatron?" he asked.

Soundwave did not respond. He was no longer required to entertain the data clerk now that Megatron had spoken to him and made his good impression to convince Orion to stay. Moreover, he did not think Orion deserved to know.

"Are you awake?" Orion's EM field reached out hesitantly to test at Soundwave's. Soundwave, still, did not respond, and Orion rose from his berth clutching his blanket, draped it across Soundwave, and disappeared out the door.

Soundwave kept an open optic out for him, though, and saw how he meandered through the arena's corridors and the ground floor, stopping in at the blacksmiths' stores and attempting to talk to the mechs there. It was an off-day where no fights were scheduled, so all the gladiators were out and about.

Megatron, meanwhile, was in the city of Kaon serving one of his most obsessed sponsors. The mech demanded it of him, and was not the only one, but certainly the wealthiest. Megatron fragged the demanding sponsor into the berth, huge spike pounding the mech on the upper floors of one of the hotels, and Soundwave left Laserbeak recording from the window outside. A few times mechs in the past had not kept to their ends of deals, or attempted to subdue Megatron, and Soundwave had quickly intervened.

It did not hurt him that Megatron interfaced with other mechs. It was a necessity, and Megatron had long established interface to be something different for him — more casual, dispensable — than Soundwave had. He knew Megatron did not enjoy it much. Soundwave had him in mind rather than body, and that was sufficient. Soundwave had been _inside_ his mind before. There was nothing more intimate.

Back on the ground floor, Orion had caught the attention of Lugnut, and Lugnut was advancing on him, calling him a 'small weak bot' even though Soundwave himself was smaller than Orion, and Lugnut had never insulted him. Soundwave waited to observe what Orion would do. Would he fight? Did the data clerk even know how to fight? It appeared Orion subdued him through words alone, raising his servos placatingly and speaking of how he was Megatron's guest, and apparently another passing mech _had_ seen Orion with Megatron the cycle before and attested to this for him. Lugnut backed down.

Megatron would've admired if he had fought and proven his strength against Lugnut, Soundwave thought, and despaired. Megatron and Orion were connected by the conviction of a shared dream, though their values were radically different enough that they would likely come to disagreements over anything. While this in itself might not have been an issue, Megatron and Orion represented larger things than the individual mechs. To some degree, Megatron was the bastion of the oppressed, and Orion, while not in the very high castes, represented middle-class.

Soundwave knew yesterday that they had broached the topic of the 'Decepticons' — vigilante bands who had taken up Megatron's previous calls to action and were launching attacks on the upper echelons of society — and that they had outwardly disagreed only mildly, but that deeper doubts were stewing in Orion's mind. They were not of betrayal of Megatron's cause, not to overthrow Megatron, nor to upset him, but simply of disagreement. Orion's own vision of the revolution remained strong — and, indeed, seemed to grow and develop as he spoke to Megatron — and strangely coincided largely with _Soundwave's_ own.

Megatron had argued that the Decepticons were free to do as they chose, because he would not restrict the freedom of any mech, and Orion had disagreed with this but not to the extent of asserting his own belief. Soundwave, meanwhile, found himself ambivalent. Megatron had an obligation towards the followers he had stirred up into action. He had given them ideas to follow and _known_ the form of actions they would've taken in the wake of these ideas. Megatron knew, and had not stopped them, though he had removed the explicit call to arms after Soundwave's request. In the same instant, he could not exert all control over them. He had influence — and perhaps Orion was right in saying that Megatron should've used that influence to prevent violence — but not full control. It was possible that, if Megatron publicly announced that he did not condone literally and physically fighting back, their crowds would grow uneasy. They would either oust Megatron, ignore that one command, or a few would actually take heed.

Soundwave did not think that it was in their nature to even imagine non-killing resistance, especially when they looked to Megatron as a role model.

While he considered that Megatron could have expended more effort into defying their constraints without furthering the image of them as barbarians, he thought that Orion did even worse. He had noticed Orion's constant communications out back to Iacon, Orion's own revolution starting in the middle castes, and while he appreciated the sentiment, it was—

It was extremely, vapidly _expected_ of the middle castes. Soundwave had extended his reach into Iacon previously, spreading himself so thin that his cassettes fretted he would lose sense of his physical self altogether — he had followed EM signals from around the planet and delved into electricity, wiring, intercepted satellite signals and wandering minds: from street surveillance cameras and stage microphones and tiny electro-rodents and movie-playing screens, he had observed what revolution Orion had created by following Orion's poorly encoded communications.

Orion's revolution was in the form of middle caste mechs gossiping on the streets and mechs leaving posters of how they were not permitted into the elite amusement park, Six Lasers. Mechs complained only about the those in the castes above them and forgot about those _lower_. It was a revolution that Soundwave suspected Orion had not intended to be so selfish — he had come here to witness the lowest of the low, after all, to fuel his motivation against injustice — but undoubtedly _was_. The mechs in Iacon recognised, theoretically, the constraints that a caste came with but did not feel them until they looked for them. And because they looked for them, they complained about those constraints, and if they complained enough, the whispers and attitudes of the middle caste would eventually be recognised by the upper. It was a revolution; it would achieve the same goal of tearing apart caste, but it had distinctly lost something. It lost its importance. It lost its grit.

And Orion was _oblivious_ to it. In some ways his blatant disapproval of Megatron's methods were an insult, because fighting _was_ the only way that the gladiators knew and Orion did not recognise it but instead grew disapproving of them. Mechs in the Pits did not have the chance to merely speak discontent and be heard — that should have been acknowledged. If Orion were to disagree, he should have offered Megatron an alternative. Megatron offered Orion so many of his insights, and Orion offered few of his in return. Perhaps he did not think it was his place, but had he not so readily accepted Megatron's title of 'friend'?

Soundwave, too, disagreed with Megatron's methods because they were counter-productive. Unlike Orion, though, Soundwave decided that in his match next deca-cycle he would demonstrate the alternative. He would do it in dedication of Megatron — that shining vision he had seen in Megatron's mind.

He plugged into the berth's electrical system to disappear back into the Grid, flashing into Iacon with the speed of an electrical current and diving into its archives, using Orion's passes to snap open its firewalls and search for news articles, video surveillances, lists of names and crimes and private records and he escaped just as security came slamming in and threatened to trap him but he was already tangled into the minds of mechs and followed them into their golden homes and he took and took and then wrenched his way into what devices he could in the form of datapads and television screens and radios and broadcasts and then weaved back out to the streets and in the shape of electrons and flashing currents and scrolling binary—

Then he was hard-processing millions and millions of numbers, Grid addresses and throwing them in at wild and abandon but it wasn't enough, and so he shot his awareness up into space to a private television satellite that had been so lazily coded that when he hijacked its communications no system-wide alert even triggered, and he ordered it to move over Kaon in geo-stationary orbit and give him even _greater_ access and reach over the world—

—And was back in Iacon, bulldozing his ways through its systems through its darker, illegal links and then tracing users back to their legal links and plunging into the network there, spreading out so thin that for a moment he forgot who he was, what he was, that he was in Kaon in a small room at all, and he exploded his way down Iacon's shining streets until _he_ was the monster under the city, he sprawled from its lower golden spires — unable to force himself into its highest — to its populace roaming at the far edges of its reach.

Returning was like slamming back into his body. His engines were _roaring_ in the room, Megatron was in front of him, had unlatched his visor and slid it up to reveal his mouth — would not disrespect Soundwave's privacy further than his mouth — and was tipping energon down his intake because the room was also filled with smoke and his cassettes were surrounding him with desperate clicks.

"-What in the Pit were you doing?!" There was a frantic desperation to his words that made Soundwave's spark lurch.

His chronometer told him the whole cycle had passed. When he attempted to vocalise, all that came out was a whirr. "I came back to alarms that your room was on _fire,_ Soundwave!" Damage reports began to flash on his visor. Soundwave had leaked energon from the seams of his plating where the heat had promptly evaporated it. His tanks were completely empty and his speakers had burnt out. His fingers had melted together.

Next he knew, the ceiling of the gladiatorial corridors were passing by as Megatron carried him, leaping down entire flights of stairs and startling other mechs. He heard Shockwave protesting, his need for more payment because Soundwave's damage was extensive and on limited time until his next fight. Shockwave wanted more credits, Soundwave heard, again, and then the damage reports filled his entire HUD, and it all went dark.

*

Soundwave recovered quickly, to Megatron's relief, and Megatron took him out into the arena to spar. Orion — somehow he had stayed in Kaon — watched from the stands as the two of them shot through the dirt. Soundwave was light on his feet, sliding under Megatron's swings, and Megatron held nothing back, crushing the earth where Soundwave had been just nano-kliks before, as though revelling in the fact that Soundwave was alive and whole.

They did not use all their tricks. They not want to spar too intensively, but still Soundwave's spark soared with the reassuring dance of fighting. Soundwave did not need to dodge all of Megatron's attacks, and Megatron preferred him not to, instead flipping his arms to angles that Megatron's blows would glance off of.

Megatron swung for his abdomen, and Soundwave grabbed his arm with his datacables and flung himself out of the way, using his momentum to wrap another cable around Megatron's neck and swing himself back while another cable transformed into a drill. They fell into a familiar step and slide, attack and dodge, block and breathe, and Soundwave, with his new-found entrenchment into the system, realised Orion was taking a call.

Soundwave flipped himself up over Megatron just as Orion logged into media feeds and spoke out for the first time, defending Megatron for the bombings that had occurred while Soundwave was in status. All at once Orion Pax stood out in the limelight, criticism pouring in from every side as well as quiet praise from some, and Soundwave thought he was brave, for a data-clerk.

But not brave enough for a data-clerk who had come to witness _Kaon_.

Their sparring ended with Orion still arguing away into the Grid, and Soundwave quietly retreated to prepare for his fight. He was versing another very renowned gladiator today, and saw from camera feeds that mechs had already appeared in the administration building to purchase admission and place bets. Megatron simply leapt up into the stands and seated himself beside Orion, and began composing a speech that he sent to Soundwave in increments. He needed to respond to the bombing as well.

In his waiting stall, Soundwave replied, bolstering Megatron's words with numbers, suggesting re-arrangements in sentences, and felt his spark warm that the orator would use _his_ advice. Megatron gave him words. Megatron gave him the will to speak by listening to his words, empowering them.

The stands were filling up with mechs, Laserbeak told him, and the main hosts of the gladiatorial rings had taken their places in the uppermost boxes. Orion was still arguing on the Grid when the gates opened and Soundwave shot out like a dark bullet.

His opponent fired, but Soundwave sensed his intent to fire long before he did and sidestepped it easily. He stood in the centre of the arena, poised like the point of a compass, visor blank, unnerving. His opponent was Hydrau — and the crowds cheered Hydrau's designation as he charged up to Soundwave, who simply flipped over him and stood to stare, once again.

Each time Hydrau got close, the crowd roared, but tapered out as Soundwave dodged again and again. The lapsed around him like a tide. Those familiar with Soundwave's fighting knew that he could dodge anything to wait for an opening, but he had never simply danced around his opponent for _this_ long. Soundwave did not raise any weapon. Soundwave's visor did not change. Soundwave simply weaved seamlessly, and at some point he ceased to look at his opponent, but at the crowd instead.

He knew when Hydrau was coming. He knew exactly how to dodge, so he kept his blank featureless face turned towards the audience. They shouted for his death until they were tired of shouting and were simply a low angry buzz in their seats.

"Fight, fool!" Hydrau shouted, and, re-invigorated, the watching mecha shouted with him. In a distant flash of silver Soundwave saw Megatron, up in the stands, next to a shocked Orion.

`[13.616.33.616] Fight _you?_`  


The mechs in the arena began to quieten, confused. Soundwave had broadcasted on a general channel, in the Grid. Then he did not merely broadcast on the Grid but _seized_ their minds, so many small thoughts, like lights, the stains of Kaon, his EM field erupting on the high pitch of a shriek that tore from his speakers outwards to burst into mind after mind. Bots were writhing in their seats; Hydrau had crumpled to the floor. Soundwave rose over him like a gravestone or dark gathering stormclouds. 

Through minds that were wandering, minds that were livid, through minds that were throwing up reports of pain or regret or excitement or anticipation Soundwave cut through them all and fired his words into their personal channels with all the invasiveness of shouting it into their audials-

`[13.616.33.616] Hydrau: is not my enemy.`  


His helm turned, to the box up the top of the stadium where the hosts were sitting, and his mind flared out again, though it did not stop at the ring. A data-cable of his had plugged into the electrical mechanism for the gates, into the system. Then he reached further than that, out the city of Kaon and only further out - the monster he had planted under the city of Iacon _screamed_ to be heard, on every media outlet, on the private datapads of mechs in their own home, on the screens of energon restaurants, on the hologram-emitters of Iacon's golden halls- in every home in Kaon, through the megaphones in the mines of Tarn, the roads of Praxius, the skies of Vos, Soundwave bellowed with the voice he did not have:

` [13.616.33.616] I defy.`  


A thousands images parsed through him at once and he fired them into his stolen satellite above, where they broadcasted on one of the thousand and hundred and twenty seven channels he had access to and millions of mechs must have been watching: images of senators of the upper caste brawling like common mechs until one of them cracked open the jaw of the other and it was smoothed over from public eye in the frame of the climbing numbers of their expenditure of cosmetics.

`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  


The private records of a middle caste mech recounting his unbelievable opportunity to go to Six Lasers, where he was spat upon by the upper and threatened on return to reveal only lies of the joy he'd experienced-

`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  


-the Pits of the middle cast, mechs in steel-floored arenas killing other mechs, bodies all over the floors while energon hissed from their frames and the crowd screamed, blood-lusted spittle-driven madness- 

`[13.616.33.616] SILENCE ME: I DEFY.`  
`[13.616.33.616] RUIN ME: I DEFY.`  


-Megatron, a miner from the lowest conceivable class possible, in the dead of the night, writing-

-Megatron, in the softness of the shadows, "Down these dark streets- I met you."

`[13.616.33.616] SEND ME TO PITS: DEFILE ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] TEAR OUT MY LIMBS: MUTILATE ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] THOUGH I AM SCOURGE: I DEFY.`  


-the death of every single mech he had ever witnessed in the Pits, even those at his own hands, energon spraying across his front, the face of dead people imbedded in the belly of others-

-lower class injured mechs entering the hospitals of Polyhex, of Tarn, strapped down to tables and told they would survive then placed into stasis for medics to begin to take off their heads-

-hospitals in Iacon central wheeling entire trucks of shipments of black bags that when opened were arms and legs and heads and fingers that were filled with eyes and-

`[13.616.33.616] DESTROY ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY.`  


-the view from the spires, two mechs there looking over it, glistening with polish, drinking energon as they discussed their jewellery-

-riots in Tarn that were silenced en-masse, bodies falling and falling down, optics dark, so many that there was enough to make a carpet of them, rioters and spectators and innocent mechs dead–

`[13.616.33.616] SEE ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] READ ME.`  


-an enforcement officer crushing the head of a factory mech as another officer yelled, "That ain't the criminal, you idiot!" and answering, "Who cares?!"-

`[13.616.33.616] BLIND ME.`  


-an entire scrolling log of [ _removed_ ] entries in the Records of Iacon, letters un-blurring to show the erasure of countless lives- 

-Shockwave's abominations, mechs screaming as they were welded together-

-a whore speaking to him, plating grey and valve open and scarred, speaking about how most days he would rather be dead-

-Megatron hauling Soundwave away from the jeering patrons of Kaon's brothels, snarling, "I cannot let them touch you."–

All this shot through in nano-kliks, the crowd still reeling from his sonic blast, but Soundwave's frame was heating up from the connection. He was on the verge of burning but he shoved aside his HUD warnings and could only continue because if he did not continue he could already feel the firewalls coming in, the tracer programs trying to find him, to mute him-

`[13.616.33.616] MECH: IN THE CROWD.`  
`[13.616.33.616] MECH: IN THE STREET.`  
`[13.616.33.616] MECH: IN THE TOWER.`  
`[13.616.33.616] MECH: WITH THE POWER,`  
`[13.616.33.616] KICKING YOUR PEDES.`  
`[13.616.33.616] YOU KICK ME DOWN.`  
`[13.616.33.616] KICK ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] KICK ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] KICK ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] KILL ME.`  
`[13.616.33.616] YET: I DEFY.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I DEFY _YOU._`  


-High Councillor Ratbat in the High Council Tower in Iacon sentencing a criminal to the smelting pit for, "Perverse lack of justice,"-

-Ratbat speaking with a mech of the elite castes, the promise of credits-

-Megatron, glancing over at him from his writing, "What does 'obstinate' mean, Soundwave?"-

-High Councillor Contrail, though younger, still recognisably him, the only middle caste member of the council, energon dripping over his servos, the body of another mech below him, looking up at the camera, static-

-High Councillor Sigil booming, "Nothing needs to change."-

-there was no end to them, the atrocities of every single caste, the misery of the down-trodden, the arrogance of the elite, the ignorance of the middle caste, and through it all laced was Megatron, Megatron and his words.

`[13.616.33.616] I HAVE NO VOICE.`  
`[13.616.33.616] YET. I SPEAK.`  
`[13.616.33.616] BECAUSE-`  


And just as fitting that the last image was of Megatron, energon and intestinal liquid pouring from him, scarred and beaten and standing atop Insecticon bodies as though he were at a throne on the highest point in the world even though he was in its slums, _"I STILL FUNCTION!"_

Soundwave burst into flames in the same moment he dropped the broadcast, and he was aware that the noise that exploded around him was immense, tidal, but he could not hear it over the pop and crackle of his wires though he felt Hydrau rise, saw claws extend in Soundwave's direction. All Soundwave could do was fall to his knees because his frame would not respond.

Next he knew, something had erupted from the spectator seats, Hydrau was not there anymore, someone was holding him, unlatching his visor, burning from Soundwave's heat, ripping open their huge silver wrist to shove their own energon line down Soundwave's intake.

"One step closer, and you will _rue_ the day you were sparked!" Megatron shouted over him, because of course it was Megatron. No one else would've. "Touch him and die!"

The flames were fading, his internal systems gaining enough power to flood the sparks with coolant and initiate self-repair. "Megatron," Soundwave's processor rasped around the wire, and Megatron's hold around him tightened despite the heat.

Soundwave didn't speak. He lurched forwards to close that gap between them, to get closer to Megatron than any mech had ever been, to nestle in the safety of his arms, just before the shot that someone — he would never know who — fired. Because he'd moved it did not splinter his processor. Instead, it pierced a hole through the back of his neck. The next one erupted his energon tank. The ones after shattered his struts.

The world closed on Megatron's howl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple things here. 1. Orion’s initial thought is taken directly from TF:E when he first meets SW. “Soundwave carried Minicons, which made Orion Pax nervous. Minicons made him think of surveillance and treachery." 
> 
> 2\. Soundwave’s line, ‘I defy,’ was actually written independently of Megatron’s speech in TF:E where he says ‘I defy you’ to the councillors. I only realised this later but it was a pleasant surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted chapters 4, 5 & 6 together today! I didn't think it was appropriate to separate them.
> 
> \+ for your information, if you're not familiar with TF:E, Jazz goes to the middle-class equivalent of gladiator pits as a spectator. In the last chapter where Soundwave broadcasted all of that, Jazz is in the footage. Orion canonically finds out through Megatron, but in this fic it's through Soundwave in the last chapter.
> 
> Jazz going is mentioned once in this chapter. Hopefully it won't confuse.

He came to awareness on a familiar table, though awareness was a generous word for it. All he knew was that he was alive. His optics were not online, though his audials were. The thrum surrounding him confirmed he was in Shockwave's laboratory and he could hear voices speaking lowly. One, he recognised immediately as Megatron, the other, Shockwave.

He reached for his symbionts' bonds and one by one they reacted to him, re-assuring. They were still alive. They did not seem to be hurt, and if he focused intently, he thought he could feel that they were all in the same place.

The voices quietened, and Soundwave began drifting back into recharge, though he was brought back by another sound. Something wet. What was happening?

His optics came online. Shockwave's familiar ceiling. He needed to see. He needed to confirm. With great aching effort his helm turned just slightly, enough for his optics to strain to the side and see through all the metal shelves and equipment Shockwave's purple frame, rocking rhythmically. Megatron kneeling in front of him.

Soundwave shuttered his optics again. All ideals and goodness aside, he suddenly wished he had killed Shockwave a long time ago.

When Soundwave awoke again, Orion Pax was standing over him, and it was not the same cycle. Laserbeak was held in his arms. She began wriggling in excitement to see him, but Orion held her still to prevent her from flinging herself onto a still grievously wounded Soundwave.

Orion appeared very solemn. "It's good to see you awake," he said.

Soundwave sent an understanding burst at him that turned inquiring.

"The High Council invites you to a hearing once you've recovered," Orion said. "I'll take you with me when I return to Iacon."

Soundwave briefly simulated how a hearing would go with his speech patterns, then he decided that that was only a minor problem.

"It'll be an open hearing, so the public will have a say as well, and they're putting Ratbat and Contrail on— well, I'm not really sure, considering through that entire broadcast you definitely pulled up dirt on every single one of them..." Orion looked a bit guilty. "I don't think it'll be as bad as you think it will be. Just take care in recovering. The Grid has been in uproar for the last few deca-cycles because of what you did. How did you even manage all that, let alone upload them into the public? I know you used my pass, which... they really gunned me down for that, you know. I didn't _know_ you were a telepath."

Soundwave was trying his best; Orion could handle warning about being more careful around dangerous mechs like him.

"Also," Orion's expression fell back into solemn, "if you ever want to leave before you're fully recovered... I know you can force it out of me with your abilities, but my personal comm is open to you. Tell me if you need to leave. Jazz has come into Kaon as well, so even if I can't, he definitely can."

Why would Soundwave want to leave? He tried to question this, but his speakers were not online yet. 

"Recover well, Soundwave," Orion wished him, and disappeared from his sight.

Soundwave struggled to follow him, pinging futilely, at least for Laserbeak to remain, but he did not struggle for long. Offline reared like a deep-sea beast took him again.

"Soundwave." Soundwave felt blind, his head felt stuffed. Somehow he felt worse than before, even though he knew many cycles must've passed. His optics powered slowly to see the familiar form of Megatron standing over his table. Somehow his designation was not filled with its usual fondness as Megatron spoke, and Soundwave felt the faintest prickle of worry in his processor.

He chirped plaintively, trying to reach out, only to realise that his hands were still not functional. Megatron's expression tightened. "Was this worth it? Look at you!"

Soundwave struggled to understand what he meant. Soundwave, surely, had seen worse injuries. "All those middle caste mechs are lapping from your hands now... is that what you wanted?"

The confirmation did, in fact, send a wave of excitement through Soundwave. His words had been heard. The entire population was at unrest to re-order Cybertron. He'd brought not only the lower castes but the middle and upper castes to eye. Was this not what Megatron wanted? He looked up, seeking approval.

"All those videos— of us! They call me a _soft-spark_ now, they call you their hero... you _usurped_ me, Soundwave! You _stole_ that from me!"

How was this the Megatron he knew? Features twisted into anger, servos clenched into violent fists, spitting.

"I had the idiocy to believe you when you said you wouldn't reveal what I gave you and _you only_. I believed you. And you betrayed me." But who would remember the small, intimate snippets of Megatron through all the incriminating displays Soundwave had broadcast? Soundwave was reeling, unable to voice his confusion, EM field reaching out meekly to meet Megatron's blistering one.

" _You_ , Soundwave, all along, biding your time to betray me!" He seized something from the shelves, a replacement optic, and smashed it on Soundwave's table, wires and sparks exploding everywhere, and then slammed his servos down, crushing what was left of the ruined thing. "I _believed_ you!"

Soundwave's EM field, still, approached him, hesitantly, and as it brushed Megatron, Megatron lurched back, expression suddenly filled with confusion and fear and guilt and emotions that should not have ever plagued him. "Primus... what am I doing?" he breathed, optics flickering down to Soundwave. He nearly reached for him, but his servo froze. Soundwave did not know what Megatron saw when he looked at him, but apparently it terrified him — because Megatron turned and fled, shoving shelves and equipment out of his path as he did, metal crashing everywhere. 

Soundwave was desperate. Megatron needed his help! Something was wrong with him; Soundwave felt it in his spark, yet he could not reach Megatron. He needed to go — damn his injuries! He writhed on the table, thrashing, what limited movement his frame afforded him jerking him violently. Megatron!

Shockwave came in, furious at the ruin of his laboratory, and Soundwave tried to scream at him, tried to convey his desperation, but Shockwave merely held him down and sedated him.

In his sedated sleep, he did not dream.

But Soundwave did have nightmares, nightmares that were real, where Megatron stood in the corner of the room and watched him, and asked in a low deadly voice, "Did you think I didn't know about Orion?" and Soundwave, as ever, struggled to comprehend what he meant.

And Megatron was furious with his incomprehension. "You only pulled your— your insubordinate little show after _Orion_ came!" Soundwave wanted to tell him that it was because he used Orion's codes to hack into Iacon's systems, but he had no voice, and his comm-lines were dead. Powerless. He needed to plug into the system, did not have enough energy to run it on his own.

"You planned to leave with him all along. You planned to _leave me!_ "

He was so close, terrifying; Soundwave had never thought of Megatron as terrifying, but suddenly he was, because he lay helpless in the face of Megatron's fury, and because this Megatron was not the one that he knew. "You _can't_ leave. Don't you _dare_ leave! Leave me and I'll rip you apart! I'll tear out your spark, Soundwave, and all your symbionts' too. I'll chain you to the walls, I'll enslave you — don't you dare ever even _fathom_ leaving. Your place has always been at my side."

Megatron was touching him, though for the first time Soundwave feared that touch. "What would I be without you? I would be nothing, Soundwave, so you can't leave. How could you bear ruining me?"

The claw pet him. It ran over his twisted frame lovingly, catching on wires and snapping them and jolting Soundwave with pain. Soundwave did not want to be there. He did not want to see this Megatron. He did not want to be under the attentions of this— creature wearing the face of Megatron. He forced himself offline, and did not want to wake.

`[106.211.19.15] Soundwave, did he hurt you?`

His comm. system was working. Barely. Faint, through crackling static. "Do you know what I even do for you?"

Soundwave lay silent, pretending he did not hear, pretending he was not awake.

"ANSWER ME." Soundwave's plating shook with the force of Megatron's demand. He whirred quietly as an affirmative.

"Everything I do is for you, Soundwave. Do you know what Shockwave wants for your repairs? He makes me get on my knees — me, _Megatron_ , on my _knees_ , and he pushes his spike into my intake and takes what he pleases. I whore myself out for you, Soundwave, as I've always done. Because I have to. For you. Or else he wouldn't fix you. I do it for you but what do you do for me?"

"You betray me," Megatron hissed, and he had gripped Soundwave's leg in a painful hold.

`[13.616.33.616] Orion: Assistance required.`  
`[106.211.19.15] I'm coming.`

"You lay here without improvement. Shockwave says you're getting _worse_. What have you ever even done for me, Soundwave?" His other claw curled around Soundwave's other slim leg.

"Nothing." With laughable ease, Megatron pulled Soundwave's legs apart. "It's only fair that I take from you what you took from me, isn't it?" His EM field was crushing, suffocating, and for a moment Soundwave considered letting Megatron have what he wanted, because it was true — Soundwave had never done physically enough for him, and Soundwave would interface with Megatron, if anyone. If it would stave off this madness, he would do anything. But then the sight of Megatron's cold red optics and the claws scraping over his interface panel struck him as cold and cruel and not the mech he cared for and he was filled with terror.

They curled between the seams of Soundwave's panel and pulled back, horrifyingly slowly, warping the metal and revealing Soundwave's delicate spike, the dry folds of his valve. Soundwave began to thrash. Megatron could not do this. Never had Soundwave interfaced with anyone in the Pits. He would not. He could not! It would not be taken from him!

A heavy claw shoved in, no pre-empt, splitting his valve, and Soundwave's systems sparked to life for him to _scream_. Warm energon seeped from him, dirtying his thighs.

"Stop."

Orion stood in the doorway, holding his own ion blaster level at Megatron. "I thought you were my friend, but I see what you are, now. You're a monster."

Megatron moved so quickly that Soundwave could hardly follow, and the next thing he knew, Orion had crumpled into the wall, his shot going wide and blowing out one of the lights, struggling to his pedes as Megatron, king of the gladiatorial pits, rammed into him again and his helm hit the wall hard enough for Soundwave to see it bend and squeeze.

The low litany of _no no no no no no_ was coming from _him,_ he realised. Soundwave had no control over what his speakers were playing back, seized with the inevitability that Megatron would come and take what had been denied to him. Orion was nothing but a heap by the wall.

Megatron turned with all the slowness of a being powerful enough to be able to take its time. Soundwave's processor stalled. Megatron's seemed to, too, optics locked onto Soundwave. If Megatron continued, Soundwave did not think he would be able to look at him without fear again. Was fear a small price? Their lives revolved around fear. They _navigated_ fear. Soundwave, surely, could live with fear.

He relaxed slowly, legs falling apart, tension flooding away. Fate take him. He would believe in Megatron. The secret was to remove fear — to lock it away so to make space for solutions and what would come after. Soundwave could not fall to fear.

Then with a movement like muscles firing Megatron hunched and screamed and clawed at himself violently as though there were things festering inside, tearing wherever he could reach madly enough to rip off one of his arms until it hung by only precarious tendons. Sparks shattered across the floor, wires exposed, energon leaking and dripping. 

With a great sweep of his remaining claw that nearly removed Orion's head to carve up the walls, he crashed through the door. Something enormous and horrible was in his shadow.

`[13.616.33.616] Orion: wake.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: made error in judgement.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Orion: escape.`  


Soundwave attempted to move to rouse Orion, pinging him ceaselessly. Orion stirred. Megatron could return any moment now, and perhaps he'd be incensed by the realisation that _Orion_ had come to help Soundwave.

When he heard a mech stop in the doorway, his spark stopped.

"What in the bloody frag is this disaster," an unfamiliar voice said. "I got your distress, Orion."

"Jazz," Orion managed, from his destroyed place in the corner. The stone of the wall had cracked with the impact that he'd been smashed into it.

Jazz had moved over to Soundwave, and he felt that behind the visor, optics were roaming over him in calculation, over the energon between his legs. "Can you walk, mech?"

"Soundwave — " he buzzed, "will not leave."

"Real funny," Jazz said, while Orion protested from the floor.

"He's hurting you, Soundwave. We can't leave you here."

Soundwave could not let fear drive him away from Megatron. Megatron needed _help_. He needed someone to change him back. "Megatron — hurting himself."

Jazz began to laugh. "Go to hell, mech. Don't delude yourself."

"Don't say that, Jazz."

"Yeah? How about you tell Soundwave here that Six Lasers got bombed under your poor Megatron's orders? Or that one of Polyhex's biggest factories got bombed, too? How about Sonic Canyons? How about Sentinel Prime? Megatron's unhinged."

"He loves him. Of course he believes in him."

"I never thought you'd leave a mech here in good conscience, Orion. Are you even hearing yourself?"

Soundwave, meanwhile, felt the probability of Megatron's return rack higher and higher every moment they did not leave. They could be killed.

"As if you can lecture me about good conscience, Jazz! I _saw_ you in that broadcast — you were watching Iacon's pits! How could you?!"

"This is not the fragging time. C'mon. We're going." He grabbed Orion's wrist, trying to lift him up, but Orion snapped out at him, dentae flashing, trying to bite at Jazz's wrist and sever the wires there. Soundwave was shocked to see that had not been done playfully. Orion had bit down so hard and with such intent that his dentae ground together and ripped part of his own glossa open. It had been fully intended to injure one of Jazz's primary energon lines.

Jazz's hand retreated lightning-quick. "Orion— what the frag?" He sounded beyond bewildered. "You're catching their insanity! This is too much."

"You betrayed me, Jazz!" Orion snarled, optics glassy, teeth still bared. Jazz did not hesitate. He brought his servo down on Orion's helm with a crunch and knocked him out, cleanly, and then hoisted the larger bot up onto his shoulder.

"Soundwave..." Jazz looked at him, visor bright blue. "Whatever. This is your hell. You chose it."

Soundwave stared after them at the empty doorway for a long time afterwards, after Jazz's polished heel turned the corner — filled with the sinking dread that he might've made the wrong choice.

He was alone for an endless amount of time, until the sound of tiny pedes reached his audials and his symbionts were there, every one of them, safe and sound, climbing onto his table, surrounding him with their warmth and understanding and purring and chirping back at him and he did not regret his decision at all.

And woke in the darkness to the phantom sensation of his panel being ripped off, a huge claw that wasn't Megatron's forcing its way in. The table was cold. Were his symbionts really there? Had they ever been? Was Megatron there? His senses went wild, unable to discern the truth from hallucination, until they short-circuited and he fell back into the void.

Out through the haze, Shockwave was at one of the consoles, watching images flash by idly. The splutters of static Soundwave admitted finally got his attention, and Shockwave was turning around, single optic staring. There was something in that emotionless stare that made Soundwave suddenly sure — suddenly, overwhelmingly, sure — that this was somehow Shockwave's fault. Shockwave was using Megatron. He must've been hurting Megatron. He would not repair Soundwave properly. The pieces came together, jagged.

Somewhere in his processor there was a contradiction, flashing a warning about Shockwave's pragmatism and his dismissal of baser instincts; why would Shockwave want Megatron to pleasure him at all? There was no reason that fit into his 'logic' that Soundwave knew, which meant that Shockwave must've been using it for something more substantial than pleasure, must've been using it to _hurt_ Megatron for his own ends — to manipulate him.

He filled his EM field with distress, and Shockwave walked over, ex-venting. "Look- are you aware how many sedatives I've–"

The data-cable lashed out of nowhere, seizing Shockwave by the neck and wrenching him forwards, Soundwave powered entirely on vicious anger that he used to pull Shockwave to him and tear his plating apart. He could hear Shockwave screaming, struggling, but he knew, _he knew_ , as long as he eliminated Shockwave, killed Shockwave, Megatron would be himself again. So Soundwave would kill Shockwave no matter the cost. His claws came up, too, and began rending at Shockwave's armour, gouging long streaks in it as energon splashed over him. Soundwave had not been one of the strongest gladiators for nothing. Even in his weakened state, he crushed Shockwave, twisting him apart.

Shockwave struggled in his grasp, crying out, begging, and finally jammed a sedative that had been in his subspace this whole time into Soundwave's data cable. Mad with fury, Soundwave grabbed Shockwave by his optic and and tightened until it shattered in his grip, then ripped open Shockwave's chest until his spark was exposed. He drew back for the final plunge, filled with a savage vindication— 

But his systems shuddered and gave out on him and his mind screamed in protest against it _nononono so close let me kill him killhimkillhimkill-_ data-cable reaching forwards futilely while the world... went dark.

The next time Soundwave awoke, he awoke screaming, trying clutching at his spark though he was strapped down, visor flashing with warnings and errors and denials because _Rumble was dead_. Some part of him had died irrevocably and was filled with this twisting agony instead. Megatron was there when it happened, standing in the corner of the room, as he always as these days, the silent visage, the body, standing there witnessing Soundwave fall apart and though there was some sort of relief there that it hadn't been Megatron to kill Rumble it was overshadowed by the pain, the emptiness of his spark.

"Useless, Soundwave," Megatron was saying. Was it even Megatron at all, or Shockwave? "How have you become this mess?"

All Soundwave could do was scream. To the Pits with him. To the Pits with all of them.

*

Small sparks throbbed by his own. He would cradle them to him if he could, but his arms were tied. Some days he did not think he would ever get better; perhaps it wasn't Shockwave, but him. Why wouldn't he recover? His processor felt muggy, stunted, and everything too slow. He felt worse. He knew he was worse. He could not even pull up diagnostic readings anymore. Telepathy was wading through illusions. The Grid was falling into a thick abyss.

But the pain was there, bright and sharp and lacerating. Laserbeak cooed at him and docked, and suddenly streams and streams of surveillance filled him, like his optics opening—

Shockwave, too uncomfortable to stay in the laboratory with Soundwave anymore. Megatron with an iron fist, offlining mechs who disobeyed him, exploding with anger at little provocation, the bodies of the hosts of the arena hanging from the rafters, the construction of munitions, arming of mechs, and streams and streams of mechs that arrived for audience with Megatron with each cycle. He was building an army.

`[106.211.19.15] Soundwave, are you ready to leave? There's something wrong with that place. `  
`[106.211.19.15] The delay for the hearing can't hold out much longer. The High Councillors are trying to fend off rioting on the streets, and the terrorism is just getting worse.`  
`[106.211.19.15] It's not just a matter of being ready to leave anymore! I'm coming to get you.`  


Replying to Orion took a great deal of effort. Soundwave just wanted to back into offline... but what he had loved was dead. He had to stop more of them from dying. His precious symbionts. Megatron.

`[13.616.33.616] Megatron: will kill you.`  
`[106.211.19.15] Let him try.`  


Ravage had gnawed open one of his constraints and dragged one of his data-cables to Shockwave's monitors. As soon as Soundwave's data-cable slotted in, he found himself in the familiarity of the system, all cameras responding to him. There were mechs dutifully following the words of their Lord Megatron, sparring and training in the arena, though the sparring seemed to devolve into brawling, and they would start ripping each other apart, bits of wet pieces spraying everywhere.

Shockwave himself — still heavily injured — was in Megatron's quarters, swirling a cube of energon, but even as Soundwave was watching, the energon was curdling. What was happening? Was Soundwave still hallucinating? He wished he were — he wished that it were some disturbed dream. What was the problem? Was there some phenomena with Shockwave? Was it in the air?

He sifted through reams and reams of camera footage; mechs ordered to lick up energon that they'd accidentally spilt, the energon there, too, curdling quickly — it was something in the air, it must've been — mechs trapping cyber-mice and ripping them apart with their teeth, empty rooms, empty stands, empty—

Soundwave rewound, played again, scrolled back through the entire feed, before the hosts had been killed in great bloody sprays. Just after Soundwave had fought Hydrau, and there, in the ventilations room, the huge generator powered air flow through the entire arena and its corridors and living spaces, cycling air from the outside in and inside out, there was a mech that Soundwave recognised as one of the arena's hosts placing a large box in the corner. He flicked a series of switches, footage too blurry to see exactly which, on the sides of the generator and then left.

Ravage shot out to investigate, but Soundwave could not disconnect from the console, still watching feeds. Shockwave: pouring the curdled energon over his extended spike, Megatron kneeling in front of him. How did neither of them realise something was wrong? The mechs in the arena had started eating each other. They bit into each other's energon's lines, frenzied, trying to assimilate each other, engulf each other. Shockwave: pressing him down, Megatron spreading his legs, helm turned away in shame, his small unused valve parting–

Soundwave wrenched himself free before he could lose himself in the chaos, in the depravity. Orion stood there at the entrance of the workshop. "Soundwave," he said. Was he real? What was real? How could anything here be real? "Someone saw me when I came in."

He recalled Ravage — no time to fix the generator — and tried to pull himself to his pedes but could not. Orion helped him stand (so he must've been real, Orion was actually there, somehow), half-dragging him out the door, and his symbionts pushed too, limping him out into the halls.

Soundwave had barely walked anything, Orion tense at his side, when he purged, energon spilling from him, not its usual blue but a sickly black, out in coagulated lumps and things that squirmed. Orion stared at it in horror, but Soundwave felt better with it out, lighter, emptier, dizzier, his data-cables scrabbling uselessly at the walls. Then his frame seized up and he found that he could not move.

The world was sliding past madly, Orion was carrying him, was running, and Soundwave lost all sense of himself. He was strangely sure that he had died because he could not feel his body anymore. He'd devolved into a base state, mind fled into the system of the arena.

`[85.88.12.2232] Lord Megatron, Orion Pax was spotted in base.`  
`[36.151.41.174] You idiot, why didn't you kill him?`  
`[85.88.12.2232] He... He was too fast for us, sir.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Useless drones!`  
`[36.151.41.174] If you see Orion, kill him.`  
`[36.151.41.174] No, bring him to me. I will handle him personally.`  
`[85.88.12.2232] Yes, Lord Megatron.`  


Cognisance was like rising from the deep. From the depths. Slow and dawning. The words becoming clearer.

`[314.15.92.653] My Lord!`  
`[36.151.41.174] Don't simper at me for the loss of warmth around your repulsive spike, Shockwave. If Orion is inside, then he must be freeing Soundwave.`  
`[36.151.41.174] If Soundwave is gone, what hold do you have over me? I'll kill you, Shockwave. I'll take you apart and hang you from the doors.`  
`[36.151.41.174] You could not repair him, you use me, and you let him free?`  
`[36.151.41.174] FIND HIM!`  
`[314.15.92.653] He is no longer in my laboratory.`  
`[36.151.41.174] You idiot! This is your doing, you useless scientist, so preoccupied chasing your pleasure that you even left your station and allowed him to escape!`  
`[36.151.41.174] _I_ will find him.`  


"Primus, Primus guide me," Orion panted, vents blowing steam, optics darting between the corridors. Ravage leapt forwards, all his distaste for Orion aside.

"Follow," he said.

`[36.151.41.174] Soundwave, I know you're listening.`  
`[36.151.41.174] How dare you leave? You are _mine_.`  
` [36.151.41.174] When I find you, you will regret turning your back on me for that ignorant data clerk. Mark my words.`  
`[36.151.41.174] I loathe to hurt you, but this insubordination cannot go unpunished. I will find you, Soundwave, and I ensure you can never leave again.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Our revolution is perfect, Soundwave, hadn't you seen?`  
`[36.151.41.174] Fleeing is an idiot's choice!`  
`[36.151.41.174] We strike blow after blow into the heart of the system, and you choose to spurn me!`  
`[36.151.41.174] We could do so much more with you by my side. We could have declared war against them already! We could have toppled them! We could have sat in their seats ourselves and watched them suffer!`  
`[36.151.41.174] I could have given you everything.`  
`[36.151.41.174] I toil so endlessly with the revolution to make a better world for you and me.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Yet you chose to leave. All for what?`  
`[36.151.41.174] ...Do you love him, Soundwave?`  
`[36.151.41.174] Have you fallen for that pathetic Orion Pax?`  
`[36.151.41.174] In all your pitiful cycles of meeting, has that treacherous Orion Pax captured your spark?`  
`[36.151.41.174] What were you doing when I was out whoring myself for creds and for you?`  
`[36.151.41.174] Were you behind my back, conniving with that filth? Were you spreading your legs for him? The same ones that you denied me?`  
`[36.151.41.174] The same legs he came to so heroically to prevent me from taking even though they were already mine?`  
`[36.151.41.174] He will never understand you!`  
`[36.151.41.174] You are MINE, Soundwave. MINE.`  
`[36.151.41.174] You are mine in mind and soul.`  
`[36.151.41.174] I will find you no matter where you go.`  
`[36.151.41.174] I will upend this world from root to sky.`  
`[36.151.41.174] Hear me this.`  
`[36.151.41.174] YOU CANNOT LEAVE!`  
`[13.616.33.616] Goodbye, Megatron.`  


With the sound of Megatron's fury echoing down the halls behind them, they blasted apart the locks on the doors and burst out of the arena, and ran — into the light of the setting sun of Kaon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the last thing you remember was soundwave kicking ass in the pit, you're probably looking for chapter 4

Soundwave had had enough of staring at ceilings for a lifetime. On waking to this new one, however, he felt decidedly alive. His symbionts had docked into him, each of them sleeping — and with a terrible pang he recalled Rumble. Those that remained were still alive. He held onto them gratefully, and in the first time for a long while, breathed, and actually felt level. His head was clear.

"Welcome to life," a medic grumbled. Soundwave noticed that Orion had been sitting in a chair by the door, and that he'd shot to attention at the words. "Worst case of IDTA poisoning I've seen in a long time. Most mechs go mad from it, but apparently you headed straight for death's door too."

Soundwave gave a grateful burst of static as the medic walked over, checking his diagnosis panel. "We flushed out all your contaminated energon and re-fuelled you, fixed up most of your plating, replaced anything that needed replacing, including your vocaliser, and so you should be free to walk." So his interface panel had been replaced, though it hadn't been explicitly said. And Soundwave... had his voice back. He was almost tempted to try, to hear his own voice that he had forgotten the sounds of.

It was not something he wanted to dwell on. He wanted Megatron to hear his first words, not these mechs. He had the distant feeling that the expenses for the medical procedures hadn't been cheap, and that Orion had likely paid for them. He would have to thank him sometime.

Megatron. He felt an enormous sense of relief at the thought that the insanity had not been of his own volition. That nightmare Megatron was only a nightmare — he would wake up.

"A lot more fixing rather than replacing, 'cause I've never seen a mech like you before. We don't have parts that even work like that." The look the medic gave him was a bit suspicious. Orion hurried to his defence.

"He wasn't the strangest one out there in the Pits." Soundwave flicked a data-cable absently. Orion was awful at lying. "Soundwave, we're in Iacon now. You're out."

He may've escaped, but someone needed to go back and free the disaster that was the poisoned arena. Soundwave tried to convey this to Orion, or the medic, with a burst of data.

"They've got enforcers on the case," the medic sighed. "Security's tightened down after Orion snuck in, though, and every mech inside is hostile."

Soundwave's visor pinged with the image of the rooftop, the ventilation block there that a small bot would be able to fit down. The medic looked over with interest, as did Orion. "I think I can get in touch with Prowl," Orion said.

"Megatron isn't in there anymore," the medic said, as though he somehow knew Soundwave's thoughts. Soundwave's helm snapped around so quickly it was in the danger of dislocating. "Reports said that he was tearing down the planet looking for you. Isn't that just charming? From what I've heard, he's gone silent for a while. Maybe the IDTA burnt him out."

Soundwave was no longer afraid of Megatron. If anything, he was afraid for Megatron. He tried to convey that through body language alone, though the medic didn't seem interested in attempting to decipher. "Sure, sure. Orion, take him out for a walk. Isn't he supposed to be seeing the Council?"

"Soundwave, are you ready?"

In all honesty, Soundwave did not want to face more hostility. Although he felt alive, he was tired of what more fighting, more debate, more talking, would take from him. But he could not escape it. He had dedicated it to be his duty. He would see Megatron's dream through. He nodded, and Orion led him out of the medical ward.

Such white walls had never existed in the Pits. Orion led him down an _elevator_ and into the streets that seemed to glow. Hundreds of mechs passed by under the sunlight, each of them glistening in whites and bright colours. Soundwave felt like an oddity, but it was too be expected. When mechs stared, he stared back, and the lack of face eventually unnerved them enough to look away.

The buildings too, seemed larger than life. How did they stay so clean? Everything was made out of the bright colours, smooth metal, and glass. Soundwave recorded it all, some of the streets familiar from his espionage, as they walked. 

Chatter from the Grid surrounded him. He was aware that Orion had long called ahead for the hearing to take place, and so was unsurprised when he saw other mechs hurrying to the same place as they were headed. There was a long flight of shallow steps leading up to the court, reflecting sunlight almost painfully, leading the way up to the tower of a building that was the Council Chamber.

The next few joors were a blur. Soundwave was carted away from Orion and searched for weapons, the bot apparently unsure how to respond when Soundwave did not answer any of his questions. They requested to clean him, to re-touch his paint, but Soundwave merely stared them down until they were too disturbed to carry out any of their requests. They let him onto the floor of the grand Chamber, waiting in the wings.

It was an opulent place, the High Councillors behind their ornate stands, the public lining seats all around the walls above him. Hand-carved lights hung from the ceiling, gems studded in them to colour their glows, and Soundwave was suddenly reminded of the Pits. He found terrible humour in the comparison.

The High Guard walked the upper decks, weapons held firmly in their servos. Soundwave didn't think every trial was usually given such backing, but with the amount of lower caste mechs in the audience, faces that he recognised from Kaon, he supposed the bias still ran rampant. There was no little amount of bustle, the audience muttering as the Councillors filed in.

Councillor Halogen, when he entered, did not sit like the rest of them. In his servos he held his gavel and tapped for silence. The sounds fell away.

He said, "We convene here today to discuss questions of utmost importance that have recently been brought into civil eye. We would like to preface this session with the statement that we, the High Council, deplore the acts of violence that have been brought upon us by groups labelling themselves 'Decepticons'; these acts threaten — in all our deca-vorns of peace — to bring us to civil war.

"While we seek to address these outbursts of violence, we, too, look to discuss the underlying cause in the validity of the caste system. It has served us admirably in peace for the past few vorns, yet we will evaluate the calls of the people to seek some form of rectification."

Halogen gestured down. "We shall begin with word from the citizens. The High Council hereby requests the Cybertronian of Kaon known as Soundwave to present himself."

The muttering started up again as Soundwave moved down the hall in all his unnaturalness, completely silent, plates sliding over each other in indiscernible lines to stand at one of the witness stands.

"Do you acknowledge yourself to be Soundwave, alleged gladiator of Kaon, Cybertronian at spark?" 

Soundwave did not respond. The anticipation in the chamber was heavy, almost oppressive. He saw many optics out in the crowd staring at him. Cameras floated in the doorways.

Very slowly, he nodded. The seeker in the council, Contrail, drawled, "We need verbal confirmation."

There was some noise at that, mechs in the crowd breaking under the atmosphere and muttering to themselves at Soundwave's apparent defiance. What mech would not deign themselves to speak even to the Council? "Order." Halogen rapped the gavel, and again the audience fell quiet.

Behind Soundwave came Orion's familiar voice, "If I may." Orion was approaching behind him, striding down the hall of the Chamber.

"We call our second witness to the stand," he heard Halogen mutter.

"Soundwave does not have his own voice. He cannot answer you." 

For some reason this stirred the watching mechs into uproar. What use was a hearing if the mech on the stand could not even speak? What was this joke? While Soundwave could, technically, speak, he chose not to — had vowed not to, yet — and did not correct Orion, who stood at the other, unused, witness stand.

"If you had some form of projector or comm link, it would solve the problem," Orion said over the crowd. Again the gavel came down. The entire Chamber waited as the Councillors spoke between themselves.

"Very well," Halogen said, and he did not looked pleased with the way the session had progressed so far. "We have opened a channel in which only he can write, yet is public to view."

"Again, we shall ask: "Do you acknowledge yourself to be Soundwave, alleged gladiator of Kaon, Cybertronian at spark?"

`[13.616.33.616] Yes.`  


The mechs in the audience recognised him — recognised his numbers. He really was _that_ mech. The one who had broadcasted it all.

"Under what authority do you claim this name?"

`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: is not required to answer.`  


Tension rippled through not only the councillors, the crowd, but even Orion himself. Soundwave did not respond. Contrail seemed ready to object, but Ratbat cut him off. "We don't have to argue about protocol. There are some more important questions waiting."

Contrail's gaze now had a steely edge to it. He asked, "Do you vow that your words here, before the council, will be full and complete?" Strictly speaking, Soundwave had not broken protocol. There was only some requirement to answer questions _now._

` [13.616.33.616] Yes.`  


"Very well," Contrail said. "Before we request your testimony of involvement with the 'Decepticons', civil defence would ask you of the means of your security breach."

It was not a question, therefore Soundwave did not answer. His silence clearly agitated the councillors and the crowd equally, optics constantly darting towards him, whispers unable to be quelled.

"Through what means did you compromise the majority of Iaconian Grid defenses?"

`[13.616.33.616] Orion's login: used.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Security: unskilled.`  


The mechs burst into noise. Some of it was outrage. Some of it was laughter. The gavel sounded.

"And how did you come into possession of an Iaonian data clerk's login? How could this reveal the rest of the system?"

`[13.616.33.616] High Council: likely already received these answers from Orion.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Login: telepathy.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Grid manipulation: natural.`  


There was no hope of stopping the crowd now. Soundwave barrelled over insubordination after insubordination with apparent ease. "While we do know of those," Contrail said, raising his voice to be heard, "there still lies the question of how you have obtained those talents."

`[13.616.33.616] Hall of Records Archives: Record 3a961240245.`  
`[13.616.33.616] 'Upon the bearing of a single witness, questions should pertain to the intent that which was announced by High Council opener.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Under the circumstances they stray, the witness at hand is not required to answer. Court adjourned to ascertain public decision [>80%] in the favour of the question's relevance may proceed. Otherwise, it remains within the individual's rights to retain silence.' `  
`[13.616.33.616] Announced court intent: address concerns of violence. Discuss caste validity.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: rejects relevance.`  


Through it all Soundwave saw that Orion had leaned forwards on his own stand and was staring very intently at his servos as though wondering how his life had lead up to that moment. The audience, meanwhile, was inconsolable. The gavel sounded not one but thrice before they would fall into silence, and still, there was dissent among them.

"We respect your reticence." Contrail sounded as though he were gritting his dentae. "In acknowledgement of this, we will move to addressing our concerns of violence. Soundwave, if you would speak. Are you, in any way, guilty of inciting these riots, and if so, how? If not, who is?" 

Soundwave was ready.

`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: guilty.`  


"Do you mean to say—" one of the Councillors began, but Soundwave was faster than them.

`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: projected controversial incriminating information.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Therefore Soundwave, incited violence.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Equally: mech in these projections, actions incited violence.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Equally: mech living in squalor, taught only violence.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Equally: mech out of squalor, taught to despise lower castes, taught to manipulate. `  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: guilty.`  
`[13.616.33.616] You, are guilty, too.`  


"So you did not directly contribute to the terrorism," Halogen said, through the murmurs of the audience. Soundwave sensed that more and more mechs were tuning in, and noted distantly that his words were being projected all over the planet. Mechs from the lowest pits to the highest mountains were watching.

`[13.616.33.616] 'Direct contribution' of recent events — Six Lasers, Polyhex, Sonic canyons — due to psychosis from IDTA poisoning.`  
`[13.616.33.616] IDTA motive: unknown. Likely directed by now-deceased hosts in retaliation of Soundwave's display.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Hosts: required mindlessness and barbarism from gladiators after uprising movement. Deduction: did not expect severity of psychosis. `  
`[13.616.33.616] Therefore: this session ill-devoted to naming and arresting individual mechs. Issue lies in factors leading to these events. Namely, caste.`  


"You mean to say," High Councillor Sigil said, "that the caste system is responsible for this violence in itself. The caste system that brought developed civilisation, space bridges, our moon stations, our spaceports — the very city that we stand within — this caste system that has upheld millions of rotations in this solar system is the one that threatens _itself_ , now? And it has little to do with criminal unrest in the gladiatorial pits of Kaon?"

`[13.616.33.616] Yes. `  


"Ludicrous. If every criminal unrest can upset what we have spent eons working to maintain, then I fear for the future of our civilization. I fear for Cybertron itself."

"If I may," Orion Pax said.

The first thing Orion Pax did was insult Sigil, Soundwave noted, and then he launched into a speech on the loss of Cybertron's autonomy. Cybertrons were confined into small spaces, Orion said. No one knows how to imagine.

"We've been shown the truth of life for many Cybertronians whose lives are all too invisible. The recent attacks were savage and inexcusable—yet they were only symptoms. The unrest spreading across Cybertron won't stop with these attacks because it's the natural expression of a people who've been held in check, their potential forever unrealized because of the false constraints of caste and Guild.

"It's natural for a being born with Spark to know that it should be free. And it's natural that Cybertronians, who're born to change from form to form, should want to be able to change their roles within Cybertronian society as a whole. If castes and Guilds fight change, they fight our own nature — and the nature of Cybertron itself! The absence of change isn't stability. It's entropy. Only dead things stay the same."

Orion continued — each Spark was destined for freedom. "The Spark within us awakens us to the possibility of freedom." He claimed that was the nature of Sparks.

And then he said they needed a Prime to lead them, to unite them, to solidify the idea that there had been change. "The time has come for all Cybertronians to be united again, and I say we need a new Prime to unite us."

"For freedom! For Autobots!" Orion yelled.

The crowd would not remain quiet after Orion had spoke—AUTOBOTS!—and they were far noisier than they had been when Soundwave had spoken. Orion had touched their sparks with his words, and Soundwave... Soundwave could not. And Soundwave, worst of all, found himself disappointed by Orion's words but could not express it. Orion's argument was a tapestry of pretty phrases and no substance. He'd postulated that freedom was of bots' natures and so caste systems should have been removed and therein lay the entirety of his argument. There had been little mention of _evidence_ , or of any logical proof. Simply– that it _was_.

Halogen said, when silence had fallen again, "I, citizens before me, express my regret that we have been blind for so long."

"Halogen," Ratbat said sharply. "You don't mean to say that you side with this abolishment of caste."

"I do," Halogen said, and Soundwave could see the other Councillors beginning to nod, to agree. "Caste... Ratbat, do you know how many mechs are watching right now? Over ten _billion_. You see a thousand in these halls presently, but there are more outside, listening, eagerly, for this means beyond the world to them. Castes have already fallen. We may not have seen it, but our populace has, and their sheer numbers and determination demonstrate this to us today. Orion has spoken for them."

This drew cheers of approval, and through it all, Soundwave swore he saw a familiar dark metal grey.

"The council convenes here as thirteen to discuss the abolishment of caste, yet we have demonstrated that our leadership bears its flaws. Without leadership, surely, our society will falter... and Sentinel Prime, following the events in the Sonic Canyons, has yet to return."

"The Matrix of Leadership has been lost," Ratbat said quietly. "It has not chosen anyone. It hasn't deemed anyone worthy."

"Yet there is a way," said Contrail, standing. "The Archivist of the Hall of Records has informed us of a way forwards." Soundwave saw it suddenly in his minds. He knew it was coming.

"Orion Pax, upon you we place the quest for the Matrix of Leadership. Usher in this new era you have spoken of so eloquently."

Orion stood very still, seemingly unable to comprehend as, in the ensuing silence. Then he choked out, "Me? You must be mistaken. I'm not fit to lead. I have my biases and my blindnesses." His optics darted around, as if searching for some mech to help him. 

The Councillors placed down their gavels and saluted. The crowd was stunned into stillness. A data clerk? As Prime?

"Soundwave. Soundwave, tell them, please."

"Orion Pax," Halogen began, patiently.

Orion said, "No. Let him speak. I implore of you."

Every face was watching Soundwave in the audience, and even the Councillors reluctantly turned to watch him, waiting for him to respond. Because, Soundwave realised with a dreadful slowness, this was not _his_ test, but _Orion's_ first test on his way to Prime. Soundwave here was relevant. To their entire and shared future.

Soundwave needed something stronger than he had. He needed _words_ , but the only one who had ever granted and prompted words from him was Megatron. Megatron taught him the draw of words, showed him the power of words, encouraged him and made him want to speak.

So it was for Megatron that, for the first time in thousands and thousands of years, Soundwave spoke with the new vocaliser the medic had returned to him. His visor slid up, halfway, so that his mouth could be seen. His mouth, clearly moving. They wanted words? Soundwave had words. "Orion." The look Orion gave him was beyond comprehension — his knees physically buckled. The only thing keeping Orion upright were his hands on his witness stand. Hadn't he realised, after all, that Soundwave had regained his voice? "Wishes Soundwave's judgement," his sentence was filled with static, scratchy and unused.

The Chamber had been poised on the fringe of explosion at the first announcement, and at Soundwave's voice, they erupted. "Silence!" Halogen called above the tumult. "Silence!" Thirteen gavels were slamming. Again, again, again, like pickaxes in the mines. "Why did you not speak earlier?"

"Soundwave: vowed silence. Regrets necessity to speak to you." 

And then words did not come from in so much as they _poured_. "Orion: cites absence of change in relation to castes. Thereafter, suggests Prime's leadership. A Prime: pinnacle of Cybertronian legend and authority. Notion of Prime leadership: dates older than castes, flawed throughout history. See: cowardice of Sentinel Prime. Manipulation of Zeta Prime. Prime leadership is not change. Orion: suggests change with hypocrisy, with little foresight, consideration."

His data-cables had released and were clutching onto the podium with his hands, he realised, but did not let go. The crowd did not respond because they had not processed it all yet, had not parsed through Soundwave's strange language and accent and the speed with which he launched it at, like an attack.

"Orion, speaks of sparks as known; freedom, of instinct, axiomatic. Thereafter, Orion: cites need for leadership. Query: Is leadership chosen by thirteen that have both demonstrated and admitted their lack of judgement _freedom_? Trustworthy?" 

He saw real doubt cross Orion's expression at that last line. Soundwave glanced at the Council that was watching him, and he could see the arguments they were going to present, could hear them in their heads. 

He looked back to Orion, and now he could hear the crowd, hear them stirring, a low roar. The Council had not responded yet, but they were bound to. "Orion's definition of 'change', 'stability' and 'freedom': flawed. Orion: would want change in amount of energon each cycle? Orion: would wish to live like Soundwave, wherein stability of living to see the passing cycle is not guaranteed? What _is_ Orion's change? Change into controversial leadership? Orion as Prime: _is_ controversy. Tumult. Change into times of tumult? Orion's definitions: ambiguous. Ambiguity: Leaves holes. Holes: for heads to hang in."

"Enough!" one of the councillors said, but Soundwave did not stop. No force in the world could've commanded him to stop. His data-cables thrashed in agitation. Charge built beneath his plating.

"Orion, cites, 'absence of change is entropy'. Entropy: measure of disorder. Disorder: Change. Therefore absence of change, _lack_ of entropy. Entropy, disorder: associated with rioting and violence. Orion's metaphor, irrelevant and inaccurate. Soundwave: will explain. Orion's need for 'change': fickle. Selective. Orion's definitions: pretty. Vapid. Change, is not guaranteed for greater. Orion: yet immature. Orion: lacking understanding. Orion: must grow."

"That is enough," Halogen said, and Soundwave's helm snapped towards him.

"Freedom: speak of it, preach of it," he spat, "take it away. My words: do not appease?"

"Within the Chamber we will not attack."

Soundwave replayed Orion's insult to Sigil, _"I say first that Sigil makes no friends among unhappy Cybertronians because he is as pompous as any Spark ever has been."_ Then he barrelled on. "Soundwave: cannot cease selection of Prime. Yet Soundwave, defies. Soundwave: sees. Sees: data, cameras, all records, sees in your minds, even now, sees everything. Sees that he is unworthy."

He looked up. There he was. He knew he'd been there, listening, all along. "Megatron. D-16. Nameless. From whom Orion developed his ideals. Of whom you approve?" Megatron who had been shaped by Soundwave.

And Megatron _was_ there, caught out in the spotlight, in the fifteenth row of seats, shocked. Soundwave met his gaze, and the silent judgement from Soundwave there was _watch me._ No one is exempt from my criticism. Not Orion. Not you. Not this watching world. He had raised Megatron because he knew the council disapproved of Megatron, yes, but also because of something more. If the Council approved of Orion, then they approved of Megatron. _That_ was what Soundwave meant, and he did not mean that message for anyone other than one mech.

But that was enough to say to Megatron. Mechs were looking at Megatron now, unwanted attention brought to him. "Councillors: in your minds, Alpha Trion: brings prophecy. Orion Pax: long chosen." He looked at them again. It was despairing. It was resentful. It was inevitable. At the end, Orion would still be Prime. How could they be for this farce? He could hear mechs beginning to protest with the muttered keyword 'prophecy'. "A _prophecy_ : the pre-determination of fate. Opposite of freedom. Contain us. Dictate us. But do not lie to us. Soundwave: sees."

"Soundwave," Halogen said, though he looked disturbed, "we acknowledge your... 'speech', but our decision has been final. You have raised points on the semantics of Orion Pax's words, but he stands to grow as a mech, and his sentiment, above all, holds true."

"Betray us. Dismay us. But do not lie to us," Soundwave intoned. 

"I respect our traditions," Orion said, shakily. "I respect the High Council, yet the High Council has been what's lead us to folly so far. And if you wish to make a change for our freedom... why can't you prove that you value it before thrusting all responsibility onto another mech? I would take the leadership if it was required of me, but this isn't just about me. I don't think it is. Not anymore. You said the Matrix will find whoever is worthy? Then I will trust _its_ judgement. I think I see more of the truth now. I cannot be your Prime."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> orion's speech about freedom that earns him the title of prime is nearly exactly the same as it was in TF:E, but with minor changes to get his formality to fit my orion more and with me summarising some of the paragraphs.
> 
> I didn't make his argument worse to make soundwave look better. it was already like that


	6. Chapter 6

After the debacle, Soundwave, oddly enough, lived with Orion even though he'd opposed his Primeacy. And although there'd been some call for Soundwave to be arrested for hacking the entire city mainframe, allegedly Alpha Trion had spoken for him and the Archivist was intimidating enough for enforcers to back away. In fact, no one seemed to know what to do with Soundwave, and no one had seemed to want to do anything with him.

In the first cycle of his stay, he followed Orion to his occupation and, after plugging in, read all 12.3E9 records, noted their dates, contents, lengths, record formats, and authors. He thought Orion had a momentary spark attack. "What job can't you do?" Orion asked him, standing in the now-perfectly organised record halls. Soundwave delivered all the information to Laserbeak and Buzzsaw. They would assist any mechs coming in to search for records.

"Orate," Soundwave said, back to using others' voice clips, and Orion gave a snort of a laugh.

"Soundwave, you gutted and eviscerated me on the stand."

"Should have been — more elegant."

"I don't know," Orion muttered, still stung, pulling out one of the drives. But Soundwave understood. Orion had responsibility over Soundwave. He wouldn't leave Soundwave just _out_ , on the streets. "You read the speech I wrote yesterday on my private datapad, didn't you?"

Soundwave's EM field flicked him an affirmative. Orion sighed, but he should've expected it. "Was it better?"

"Will — compose a report."

"Primus," Orion said.

"Appropriate conviction," Soundwave commented. "Lacking — coherency. Concision."

"Concision. Did Megatron have concision?"

Orion looked around when Soundwave did not answer. He stood there, visor unreadable. One of his data-cables extended, wavering, and then Soundwave turned around and was striding back to the monitors. "Orion — seeks to better leadership — go — outside. Laserbeak and Buzzsaw — to perform Orion's occupation. Speak to the — people. Listen."

"You're just trying to make me go away, aren't you?" Orion rounded on him, but Soundwave had already stopped paying attention, and was sitting at the monitor, writing a program that he would upload onto the Grid-linked cameras so that they would recognise and flag if they had caught sight of a large mech of Megatron's proportions.

It took Soundwave the better half of the cycle both to write the code, hijack Iacon's cameras, and sift through their logs. His minibots had already been outside roaming the streets, searching for Megatron, but surely he could aid them.

Orion had returned and Soundwave had still not found Megatron. He _had_ seen Megatron during the hearing, but he'd disappeared shortly after, and in the chaos that had been the ending, there'd been no way of locating him. "Prowl tells me that they finally got the arena cracked down and open," Orion said. "All the mechs there are getting treatment in Kaon's hospital. Otherwise... well, it's kind of weird trying to talk to random mech on the streets."

Soundwave acknowledged it in his EM field, but did not move from his place at the monitor.

"We have to lock up, Soundwave," Orion said. Behind him came the skitter of Ravage's claws as he leapt down the stairs to the Archives.

"We found him."

Soundwave was on his pedes and moving in an instant. "Come home before midnight," Orion called after him, jokingly exasperated, which Soundwave acknowledged with a flick of his data-cable. He was stalking out the halls on Ravage's heels, hurrying down the evening streets where mechs stared at him to no end, muttering about him, some even recording him.

Down all these strange streets where he did not belong, he looked for the mech he belonged with. They had left on... hectic terms, and Soundwave had not been the most accommodating when he'd called Megatron out on the stand. He'd been reckless. Only he knew the true soft capacity of Megatron; would that have hurt him?

"Transform," Ravage told him, staying on the ground as his strides lengthened until his plates slot into place and he leapt upwards off the streets as a jet.

Not for the first time that cycle, Soundwave tried to reach Megatron from his personal comm. line.

`[13.616.33.616] Megatronus: I am coming.`  
`[13.616.33.616] D-16: Do not flee.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Nameless: afraid?`  
`[13.616.33.616] Soundwave: not upset. Though you know this.`

There was nothing, no reply, even as he shot deeper into the sky, the roar of his engines making mechs look up, follow him, as though he were a dark shooting star.

He found Megatron as Ravage directed on the roof of an unnamed apartment building, metal ringing as he landed in his proto-form. Megatron was no longer battered, the majority of his deep gashes patched over professionally, and Soundwave inwardly chastised himself that he hadn't thought to check hospital records for Megatron's location.

The look that Megatron gave him was haunted, EM field tucked securely into himself. He did not move as Soundwave circled him. It was unnatural. Soundwave did not like seeing Megatron so timid. He lashed out a data-cable, straight for Megatron's helm, intending to hurt, and a powerful arm deflected it by instinct though he immediately flinched away and seemed to regret the movement.

The next data-cable reached out slowly, for Megatron's arm. He allowed it to. It wound around his arm and tugged him forwards, until he was standing right before Soundwave. Soundwave needed to tilt his helm upwards to look.

"I hurt you terribly," Megatron said, and Soundwave was struck by the realisation that he'd missed Megatron's voice — his real voice, so much. "I hurt many mechs terribly."

Soundwave was wrought with the memory of fresh pain, and he pushed it aside, placing the data and memories behind multiple firewalls. It could not be entertained. Not now. He could not deny Megatron's words, but he could overshadow them.

Soundwave played back Orion's voice from the hearing. _'The absence of change isn't stability. It's entropy. Only dead things stay the same.'_. "By Orion's definition:" he said, in his own voice, and Megatron's EM field pulsed at the realisation of it, in gratitude, "Soundwave is dead."

He placed a small servo in Megatron's. "Kneel. If you wish."

Without hesitation, Megatron did, struts hitting the rooftop with a clang. This way they were level, face-to-face, reminiscent of their first meeting where they had joined in mind. "A source of stability in Soundwave's life; a point of no change: devotion." His data-cables wrapped and wound all over Megatron and he stepped closer, until he was surrounded by Megatron's warmth.

His visor slid back completely. Megatron had not seen his face before. Soundwave saw Megatron's optics roving over him, trying to memorise every contour of his face, every detail of his design, and Soundwave leant forward to brush their cheeks together. He kissed his brow, his cheeks, down his jaw, the curve of his helm, showered him with unfiltered adoration and then sealed his mouth over Megatron's, the rough scarred lips of Megatron's, and kissed him sweetly. He would give the world to Megatron, if he deserved it... and if he did not, Soundwave would guide him until he did.

It did not stay sweet for long. Soundwave knew what would calm Megatron, and his own hunger reared with the heat, the hunger he had never allowed himself to feel, the wet touch of Megatron's glossa, and found himself pressing insistently forwards, servos roaming down Megatron's frame, determined to explore the scars there. Each one he remembered. Megatron seemed to thaw slowly, and with utmost care he touched Soundwave back, sliding his fingers between the seams of Soundwave's plating, palming the smooth edges of him, but most of all he seemed enamoured with Soundwave's face, reaching up to cup his cheek, pressing their kiss deeper.

Megatron's body was familiar to him. If he stroked his thigh, it would tremble, and Soundwave would swallow his instinctive gasp. If he ran his long fingers over Megatron's helm, Megatron would arch into the touch.

But there were new reactions to be discovered. If he rubbed circles over Megatron's interface panel, it would slide open, and Megatron would shake with tiny restrained noises Soundwave had never heard him back with anyone else. If Soundwave brushed past his spike, Megatron's hips would jerk forwards and he would clutch onto Soundwave's shoulders. If Soundwave pressed a long slender finger into his valve, Megatron would clench down on him and mouth helplessly at the cabling of his neck and try to touch him in return, touch where Soundwave's interface panel had opened too and his spike had pressurised.

Although Megatron was an experienced lover, Soundwave somehow had the impression that he had never been properly loved. Soundwave would not stop his data-cables from stroking over his frame, over his arms, over his thighs as he pressed his servo into Megatron's larger valve, lubricant pooling beneath Megatron as it heated and pulsed under his touch. His other was gripping Megatron's spike, stroking it in time with the fingers in Megatron's valve, unravelling him until he was a dripping, desperate, mess. Soundwave was determined to wipe his mind free.

"Let go," Soundwave told him. Let go of your pride. Let go of your pain. Let go of your thoughts. But do not let go of one thing. "We are safe now." Megatron groaned in response, hand fumbling for Soundwave's own valve, pressing in an enormous finger. Soundwave rocked back on him, the experience foreign, spreading. He found that he welcomed it, and set a generous pace, thrusting himself onto Megatron's hand.

He pressed Megatron back, against the surface of the rooftop, and eased his ready spike into Megatron's valve. Megatron's whole frame locked up at the entrance though Soundwave covered his cry with his lips. Megatron was welcoming and wet and warm and he found himself setting a harsh pace, never fearing that he would hurt Megatron — if Megatron were to spike him, it would be different — drawing back almost entirely to witness Megatron's valve grasp for the tip of his spike before he sunk back in.

Megatron was attempting to hide his expression with his arms. Distantly dismayed that he could not watch both Megatron's valve and kiss him at the same time, Soundwave settled for the latter, pushing aside his arms, coaxing him loose with his glossa by running over the sharp pricks of Megatron's fangs. He caught every sound, every little whimper and plead.

Megatron was too large, he decided, and pushed a data-cable in beside his spike. "Soundwave!" Megatron gasped, absolutely wrecked, and Soundwave did not hold back. He thrust both his spike and the cable in at the same time, winding them together, urging Megatron open wider, pressing deeper, striking clusters of nodes that had Megatron pawing desperately at him. At the same time he pushed one of his own cables into his own valve, pulsing it in time, slick dripping from him.

"Soundwave — I've— Ah!" Somehow Megatron seemed to be tightening around him, approaching overload, and Soundwave held onto him harder for it, curling another cable around Megatron's throbbing spike and pulsing charge through it until Megatron came apart under his hands, curving his back and spreading his legs as wide as they would go. Soundwave rode him through it, Megatron's hips twitching with each thrust, each pump of Soundwave's spike into him, until charge began to build up again.

Soundwave pushed him through overload after overload until Megatron could no longer sing him praises because he'd been lost into utter incoherency. His own valve was puffy and soaked after reaming it with his cables, through Megatron's was far more obscene, drooling lubricant and Soundwave's transfluid everywhere and still hungrily pulling at him each time he shoved in.

All throughout it, Soundwave clutched him tightly, whether with his arms or cables, and opened their minds. He clung to that golden image of Megatron's dream, let it fill them, let his own devotion fill up the spaces between them like shining light so that they would not be apart. He would not let go.

"Terror is through," Soundwave said.

 

 

 

 

`[13.616.33.616] 'Would you like to hear some intentional wordplay?'`  
`[36.151.41.174] You know I would love to.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Down these dark streets once stood many mechs in the forms of lanterns.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Tenacious and stalwart.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Bulwarks of peace.`  
`[13.616.33.616] In them each: a spark burned that would fade.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Would be lost: never found again.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Neither by you; nor by me.`  
`[13.616.33.616] But they stood where all things had died and they burned of hope.`

`[36.151.41.174] Surely this must be a dream.`  
`[36.151.41.174] How could I deserve you?`  
`[13.616.33.616] You were born without a name. But you found names. Created names.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Nameless one: you have given me these words.`  
`[13.616.33.616] Give me more.`  
`[13.616.33.616] I will return them until I cease to exist.`

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we're done! thank you for reading!  
> bonus scene:
> 
> "Please find somewhere else to live," Orion said. "You broke my door just walking in."
> 
> "I like your apartment," Megatron said.
> 
> "I like it too! Which is why you need to leave. You broke the wash-rack on the first night. I _heard_ what you two did in it. That's not acceptable."
> 
> "Then you know it was broken for very important reasons." Megatron sounded very smug. "The same goes for your benchtop. And your desk."
> 
> "Please move out," Orion said, despairingly.


End file.
